


Oh, These Quiet Days that Bind Us

by Aetherrryn



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Crime Syndicate, F/M, Implied Attraction, No Byleth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-08
Updated: 2020-08-19
Packaged: 2020-11-27 09:54:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 64,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20946422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aetherrryn/pseuds/Aetherrryn
Summary: Our beloved 3H characters thrown into a modern universe; from their time at a university, to the moments that await them in their future. A collection of inter-connected 'one-shots' featuring primarily Edelgard and Dimitri. Contains no chronological structureMix of fluff and angst and general interactions.





	1. For the Love (Hatred) of Poetry

**Author's Note:**

> I've grown tired of the lack of Dimigard content everywhere, thus the task befalls me to fulfill my own longing. 
> 
> ~~~~~~~~~  
This is a one-shot, one relatively tame and low on actual romantic content. I might develop this into a series of one-shots depicting various moments in their Uni careers, romantic and platonic. Other characters might pop up. 
> 
> As much as I enjoy angst, I just want some fucking soft, non-heart wrenching interactions between these two. Thus this self-indulgent ficlet has arisen into existence.  
~~~~~~~~~~  
And of course, I don't own the franchise or these characters. If I did, they would have gotten the most sickeningly sweet supports and ending ever.

It was quiet.

Well, of course it was. What a foolish thought that had preoccupied her mind. She supposed that it was easier to think on irrelevant facts than to focus on the tedious, dull assignment sitting untouched on the table before her. 

The young woman heaved a sigh and let her head fall to rest upon a dainty fist, her amethyst eyes flicking sideward, scanning the shelves overladen with books on various subjects. Chemistry, physics…she hadn’t realized that she had situated herself in the science section. She supposed that it had become a habit, coming here to this quiet corner of the library. And it became evident as to why—her friend, a chemistry major himself, often ventured here—and she often accompanied him.

Ah, but she was alone today. He was currently in a lab, if she recalled correctly. Something of the sort, and thus she was left to struggle and ponder over the nuances of certain connotations when contrasted with others. 

Edelgard sighed yet again and lowered her eyes to the blank paper, waiting for the ink of her pen to stain it with hastily scribbled and barely coherent thoughts; she could not think anything else at the moment anyway. And perhaps that was why her eyes chose to wonder again, flicking back and forth, studying the familiar environment again. She was sure that by the time she chose to leave, the entirety of this corner would be as familiar as the back of her hand. 

The woman cleared her throat and sat a little straighter, picking up her pen and setting it to the pristine white page. And…the words stuck. 

She could not deny that when it came to…artistic ability, written or otherwise, she was…well, 

Very well—she was terrible. There was no use in attempting to deny or refute the statement. She, Edelgard von Hresvelg was absolutely awful at any form of art. Her paintings looked like a child’s scribbles, her poems were stilted, rigid and void of any of the most defining characteristics of poetry: emotion, namely. She could string words together, but that did not mean that they depicted beautiful things, nor carried any great meaning.

Of course she could craft an eloquent address when it came to other subject matters—she was brilliant at public speaking and speeches…just not…this kind.  
Edelgard bit her lip and glanced at the device laying silent beside the paper. No. She had pestered Bernadetta enough; she would see this assignment through on her own—through her own power. She…would. And certainly, she would curse herself throughout the entire semester for having chosen to take a course on poetry. 

A groan split her lips and she allowed her head to fall forward—hitting the table with a rather jarring sound. 

“Are you alright?”

A sudden voice broke through the silence and she startled, straightening immediately, a slight pink coating her cheeks at the uncharacteristic display of frustration. “Yes, quite.” She cleared her throat and raised her eyes, seeking the source of the intrusion. 

A young man stood between the shelves, peering at her with some measure of concern. His hair, a little strangely styled, was a bright gold; blue eyes blinked underneath blond brows, furrowed sharply. She had not realized that someone else would be nearby.

And he—he seemed familiar. She was sure that she had seen him somewhere before. Well of course she had, they went to the same university so assuredly it would not have been outlandish to believe that they had crossed paths once or twice. 

“Edelgard, is it? From Marketing 308?” 

Or…they shared a class entirely. Her mind seemed to go blank as she stared at the young man. Perhaps she needed a cup of coffee—or three. All she needed to do was send Hubert a text and he would come running with her preferred beverage. 

Finally, a slim recollection of a man with golden blond hair and blue eyes flickered across her skull and she blinked. He sat to the left of her—a few rows ahead. The corner of the first row. 

But it seemed that she had taken too long to recall. The man managed a sheepish smile and began to back away. “Ah, forgive me. Of course you would not—,”

“No—I do.” She cleared her throat and lifted her chin. “Dimitri.” She hoped she had at least recalled his name correctly. 

And it seemed that she had—the man’s eyes brightened and his lips curled into a cheerful smile. “Yes.” He adjusted the strap of his satchel and she noted how his gaze flit to the empty chair across from her. “May I join you?” He asked, a smidge of hesitation coloring his voice. “If it not too presumptuous of me.” He added quickly, as though worried he might have affronted her by merely asking.

She stifled the smile of amusement that seemed to want to tug at the corners of her mouth and nodded, reaching over to organize her belongings and make some room for his. 

“Thank you.” Relief surged through his sigh as he heaved the strap of his satchel off his shoulder and all but collapsed into the seat. “It was near impossible to find a place anywhere else.” The man explained with a sheepish smile, pulling a textbook from his bag. It was just the same as the one she had.

Edelgard nodded, glancing at her watch. “I understand. The library does tend to get busy around now, does it not?” Most students were just leaving their classes and many filed to the library to set to doing their work, or for other less than scholastic purposes she had discovered to her chagrin. 

Her newfound companion merely hummed his concurrence and flipped the text open to a page she recalled poring over the night before. 

And so a comfortable quiet descended once again—only a quiet chatter murmuring through the air as others discussed various topics a distance away. 

Seeing as the young man across from her had focused so attentively on his coursework, it would be remiss of her to continue procrastinating on her own.  
So again the young woman found herself glaring at the empty paper before her, the book of poems open tauntingly beside it, the words arrogantly dancing across the page.  
To think that she, of all people, would be struggling with something as simple as poetry. It hackled her pride—she could already hear the infuriating, smug voice; could see the pompous, self-satisfied countenance of his as he said—

“Is something amiss?”

Someone else’s voice took over before her mind could conjure the illusory conversation and the young woman snapped her head up, finding herself looking into the eyes of the man across from her. There was something so…innocent about his face, she found herself thinking. Almost naïve, in a way. 

“Why do you ask?” Edelgard stifled a sigh and crossed her arms defensively. What, did she look troubled? Of course not. She was in perfect control of her expressions, and she never allowed herself to look anything less than composed.

“You look…well, frustrated.” He cocked his head slightly and observed her, his blue eyes scouring her visage—and her hackles rose once more. She felt a tint of warmth coil around her ears. At her affronted reaction, he frowned and leaned back. “Er, is there something I can help you with?”

Oh, the audacity. She felt her brows pull together. Be calm, she told herself—he had done nothing wrong; it was a simple question, asked with innocent intent. It was not Ferdinand before her. That being so…it could not…hurt to vent some of her mounting irritation. Hubert was not hear to listen, so she supposed that he could be the next best choice. “I am frustrated.” She admitted curtly, pushing the open book towards him. “Sothis knows why I decided to listen to my misguided friends and take this accursed class.”

His brows rose curiously, but he said nothing, pulling the book of poems closer and lowering his gaze to it. Yet, after glancing down the page, his eyes brightened with recognition. “Ah—the Lamentation of Saint Seiros.” He nodded, smiling, but she was simply surprised that he had recognized the foreign literature so quickly. 

“You know it?” A hint of accusation touched at her tone and she frowned. 

“Of course.” Dimitri either did not hear it, or disregarded it. “It is a beautiful work of written art.”

She huffed in annoyance, rather displeased with his admiration. It did not seem all that lovely to her. It was padded full of flowery words and laudatory phrases, undeserved in her opinion. But she did not want to get into that presently. “Perhaps.” She conceded, resting her chin on a fist. “But regardless, my task is to analyze this piece and offer commentary upon the author’s particular stylistic choices.” 

“Oh? That sounds rather riveting.” He leaned forward, clasping his hands together atop the table, fully attentive to her. It was almost…flattering, really. Was it simply a ruse that he appeared so interested, or was it sincere? 

Still, a bitter laugh dropped hollowly from her lips and she shook her head, shutting her eyes in irritation. “I disagree wholeheartedly. I simply cannot fathom this, really. The only commentary I can piece together is that the language used is wholly unnecessary and far too impractical.” Edelgard scoffed, studying her companion’s expression.

His brow had furrowed some and he seemed contemplative. “Well,” He began slowly, seeming rather solemn—and in a moment of distraction, she found herself admiring the beauty of his features. “One might say that the language used is intended to invoke a set of particular emotions from the reader.” He spoke and her eyes flicked to his lips, almost unwittingly. “Practicality is not the focal point of poetry.” 

She forced her gaze back up and cleared her throat quietly. “I—well of course I know that. I simply, I cannot seem to grasp all these—,” In frustration and for a lack of the word she wished to say, she raised her arms. “Elusive meanings.” She finished lamely, dropping her arms back to the table.

The blond man chuckled and stood up, and her gaze flicked to him quickly, her eyes narrowing in slight suspicion. To her surprise, he rounded the table and stood beside her, gesturing to the chair beside her own. “May I?” He asked, waiting until she nodded, somewhat hesitantly to pull it out and sit down. “Do you have the assignment written down?” He cocked his head at her, and suddenly, she found herself a bit flustered.

“Y-yes, I do.” Edelgard cursed herself under her breath and dove for her bag, rummaging through the various papers she kept within it, conscious of the form that was so near to her now. “Here.” She did not turn her head as she offered him the paper.

As he read it, she kept her eyes pinned to the table, drumming her fingers lightly. What, she wondered, was the sudden cause of her trepidation? 

“Ah, I see.” His voice broke her rumination and she looked up, interested in what epiphany he had come upon. “I believe I could assist you, if you would not mind.” 

Cautious and polite, almost frighteningly gentlemanly. Edelgard merely stared at the man for a moment, then dipped her head into a nod. “Thank you.” She pressed her lips together as he began to speak, narrowing her eyes in concentration as he pointed to certain passages in the text and expounded upon various interpretations.

His explanations were…enlightening. He spoke well, fluidly, and he was well versed with the subject matter—which was quite astonishing in itself. He illuminated and highlighted things that she would never have thought to pick apart, offered insight with such clarity that she almost felt herself a fool for not having noticed it herself. 

Yet, as he spoke, her gaze kept wandering—to his face, specifically. She did not know why, but it seemed as though her eyes were drawn to him, his lips, his eyes, the fluttering of his golden lashes, the furrow of his brows—drawn together in great focus. 

In fact, she had grown so distracted by his, well, admittedly pretty face, that she had almost not noticed that he ceased to speak and was in turn returning her stare. Caught in the act, a guilty flush crept up her neck. She quickly assumed an expression of composure, leaning back. When had she leaned in?

“Did you say something?” 

“I asked if you better understand the assignment.” He repeated, a slight upward tilt to his lips. Without looking away, he set his elbow atop the table and leaned his cheek.  
Why was he acting so…familiar? It was unnerving to a degree—and also…pleasant.

It was refreshing, undeniably. She was accustomed to throwing up boundaries, walls, never allowing anyone to break through. And yet this man, with his earnest smiles and sincere words…naïve, perhaps, threatened to shatter that peace. “Yes. I do.” Edelgard remembered her manners and bowed her head, glad to have finally written something and ruined the pristine page that had been until now, blank. 

“Thank you, truly—are you—is something wrong?” Noting how intensely he was peering at her, she asked, instinctively raising a hand to smooth down her hair. 

“No.” As though caught doing something he should not have been, the man coughed and looked away. “It is just, you smiled. I felt fortunate for having seen it.”

Oh. Her heart stammered and she blinked. She had not even known that she had smiled. His words struck her in a strange, unfamiliar way. Unfamiliar but not unpleasant—a sentiment she had discovered numerous time in the span of the last hour or so. Before she could respond, however, a rather eerie voice interjected.

“My apologies for having arrived so late.” Formal and impersonal, the voice of Hubert, her… She could not adequately describe their strange relationship. She had known him since she had been but a little girl, and he, a few years older than her, had always acted as somewhat of a butler to her. 

Edelgard glanced at the man beside her, then at the one standing a distance away, between the shelves. They were staring at each other and she could not quite discern what either felt. “Hubert.” She greeted, clearing her throat. “I was not expecting you at all.”

Dimitri rose and made his way back to his side of the table, gathering his belongings. “I will not intrude upon your time any further. It was a pleasure, Edelgard.” He smiled again, and it was radiant. How could he praise hers when he had one that was blinding. 

“You need not let Hubert frighten you away.” She rose as well, not entirely sure why she felt the need to convince him to stay. “He may look imposing, but I assure you he is harmless.” Well, the latter part of the statement was questionable in validity. 

But the man laughed and shook his head—and it was a hearty laugh, pleasant. Pleasant? Her vocabulary seemed to have grown limited since he had appeared. Edelgard frowned and looked at Hubert. “Certainly. Still, I have other engagements to see to. Thank you for sharing your table.” The man bowed his head at her, then nodded at Hubert, passing the dark-haired man and disappearing from her line of sight.

“Making friends?” With one brow raised, the man approached lifting his hand and offering her a cup.

“Funny.” She snapped, taking the offered beverage and taking a sip. Coffee. “How did you know?”

“I had a feeling.” He said smoothly, sliding into the place Dimitri had previously been situated in. A pang of…something bolted through her chest.  
“He was a classmate. Apparently.” She answered in response to his quip, giving him a stern look. 

Hubert nodded in that slow, discerning way of his. “Yes, Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd. He is in the majority of your classes.”

How he knew, she did not know, nor did she care to know. She was hardly surprised to hear that Hubert had such information. She sighed and took another sip. And—the name…sounded familiar. “Where have I heard that before?” She mused aloud, her eyes narrowing as she concentrated on recalling. “Blaiddyd. As in…”

“Yes. That Blaiddyd.” Hubert smiled humorlessly and took a draught of his own beverage—black coffee, she assumed. Did he drink anything else? She was not sure. 

How had she not recognized him sooner? Edelgard shook her head, looking away. It was an illustrious name and affiliated with a variety of…significant operations. It was most assuredly one she would not allow herself to forget.


	2. Finding Harmony

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A brief intermission from the chore of studiousness, Dimitri finds himself pulled along to, of all things, a concert.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Didn't think I'd be posting again so soon, but here we are. The creative juices started flowing I guess--and turns out I've already got two more ideas floating around my head, just waiting to find their place on a page, or word doc. Hope you enjoy this one too!

“A concert?” 

He was not entirely certain that he had heard correctly. He raised his head and peered at his friend, noting that the man’s usual scowl had deepened considerably. He slowly lowered his book to rest on his lap, furrowing his brows. “You want to go to a concert?” He repeated carefully, as though it was some sort of cipher that he could not quite understand. 

Because, this was Felix before him. 

“Will you or won’t you go?” As was usual in regards to him, his temper snapped quickly and the dark-haired man growled, his hands clenching into fists. 

Dimitri shook his head and raised a conciliatory hand. “Of course I will; I too enjoy music, and I suppose it would make for a fine distraction.” He rubbed his chin, grimacing at the thought of the exam that was but a few days away. But his eyes flicked upwards again and he surveyed the other man’s face, frowning. “But—,”

“Don’t say anything.” Felix snapped, turning his head away and crossing his arms. “I…I made a promise, alright?” Perhaps it might have been a trick of the light, but it seemed that for a moment, Felix’s cheeks had become tinted with a dusting of red. “And don’t you dare tell that blithering fool.” He added viciously, his eyes flashing with his customary irritation. 

Dimitri knew to whom the temperamental man was referring and a faint, exasperated smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “Right. Of course not.” A promise; he could not help but wonder to whom that promise had been made. 

A groan caught his attention and he glanced up again. “Would you stop making that face? This isn’t any of your business.” Felix declared tersely, his scowl deepening. “Just shut up and come with me.”

“I had not even said anything.” Just slightly aggravated by his roommate’s constant foul humor, he tossed his book atop his bed and sighed. “Or am I not allowed to think either.”

“No, you aren’t.” The man snapped. “All you need to know is that I made a promise. Leave it at that.” 

Felix was rather insistent upon that, which really did nothing but stoke his interest more. Yes, yes, a promise…but since when had Felix made promises such as these? To see a concert of all things. He tried to imagine who it might have been—but no one that he knew would have been a part of it, much less Felix—someone that insisted he needed no friends nor relationships. He supposed that there was little necessity in pondering the matter. He would discover the answer to this mystery soon enough. 

The young man heaved another sigh and ran his hands through his hair, his mind thoroughly defeated for the day. Studying truly did take a toll on a person, especially on a topic such as the one he was pursuing. He raised his arm and glanced at the watch on his wrist, noting that there were only a few hours until the concert. How…sudden. He would have liked at least a little more notice. 

Dimitri chanced a glance at his roommate and childhood friend and stifled a smirk. Felix was rummaging through his dresser, still scowling of course, in search of something perhaps a little nicer than what he was currently wearing. Curious. Quite curious. 

The man never really made it a point to dress well, having declared the practice a waste of time. Dimitri was not even sure that he owned anything other than a few pairs of the same colored pants and some tee-shirts. Oh, and of course a single coat. Thus his current struggle was all the more poignant and all the more amusing.

There was simply no way, was there? Was Felix truly attempting to impress someone? By Seiros, he never thought the day might have come.   
~~~~~~~~~~~~

In the end, Felix begrudgingly accepted a sweater from him, one of finer make and a little more elegant than anything he himself owned. It was to his benefit anyway, it was mid the autumn; the winds were cold, bordering on frigid, and the concert hall was across the campus grounds. 

The sun had set and the moon hung heavy in the sky, a mist of clouds obscuring its silver rays. Had his companion not been so intent on dragging him along, he might have stopped and admired its beauty for a moment. Alas Felix grumbled something about being late and finding seats and he was forced onward. 

And so they stumbled into the hall, finding that it was in reality quite full. He had not known that they were so illustrious in regards to their music program, but it was fair news, he supposed. It was wonderful that the arts were just as revered as the other subjects. 

Dimitri scanned the darkened theater for any spare seats, and only along the very back did he finally see a few. Along with a head of familiar white hair. He found himself briefly surprised by the presence of his classmate, but shook off the stupor and nudged his friend, leading him towards her. 

The young man stopped beside her and bent to tap her shoulder. She startled, evidently not having expected to be disturbed. Her eyes shot upwards and she stared, unblinking—and for a few moments, he was afraid that she had once again forgotten him, but the light of recognition did dawn and he allowed himself a quiet breath of relief. 

“May we sit here?” he gestured to the open row. 

The young woman glanced about herself, hesitating. “Yes.” She answered at last, straightening some as he sat down, and Felix beside him. 

He did not often venture to the campus theater and so took a moment to admire its architecture. It was a vast and beautiful structure, undeniably. But his gaze slid sideward, towards the young woman at his side. Situated at the very last row, no one else with her. His brow furrowed some and he thought about whether to inquire. She did not seem…well, receptive to unnecessary conversation. 

Dimitri cleared his throat and leaned a little closer, having made his choice. “Did you come alone?”

And once again, perhaps having grown accustomed to being left alone, the woman raised her eyes to appraise him—the striking, vivid lavender color that he recalled. Her countenance was impassive and she offered him a curt nod.

“Can you shut it?” A sharp jab to his side and a hissed voice. 

Dimitri frowned at his companion, but before he could reprimand him, the dim lights were shut off and the stage lights were illuminated. They in the back were left in darkness; the rest of the hall had gone silent. He sighed and leaned back in his seat, resting his cheek on a fist. 

A deep, melodic drone swelled from the orchestral pit signaling the true start. 

As students proceeded onto the stage, it became apparent that the word ‘concert’ was a disservice. It was an opera, but of course the taciturn man would not care for the nuances. He was not a man for the fine arts anyway, so he could not yet fathom why Felix would have made this promise. 

Regardless, he was not lying before when he said that he enjoyed music. He released a breath and simply allowed himself to relax and focus on the beautiful sounds that emanated from the stage. 

But focusing was just a tad more difficult than he had expected. Rather, focusing on the music, that was. The woman next to him had shifted and her shoulder had brushed against his. Now, he might have simply ignored the sensation, but it persisted. She left herself in place, and so they were, well…pressed together. And so there was a consistent warmth that spread down his arm—the moment for action had passed and moving his arm now would seem rather rude, he thought. 

He did not know why he heeded the sensations so acutely, nor why he persisted to dwell upon it. The man glanced to the side, wondering if she had taken notice, but he found that she was entranced. Her eyes were wide, the stage lights reflected within them—and…there well…

There was a tear shimmering at the corner of one of them. 

He blinked, astonished by the sight, and quickly looked away. He had not assumed that she would be someone to be so moved by music, of all things. And yet, it was a pleasant discovery; illuminating. She had seemed so immovable thus far. 

But perhaps it was inappropriate to dwell on such things. 

Dimitri raised his eyes and tried again to focus his attention on the stage, at the story unfolding in the music. There was a woman in the center with long hazel hair, her hands outstretched, her eyes closed. She seemed thoroughly immersed in the music herself, and her voice was unimaginably lovely. 

Glancing to the side again, he found that Felix too was utterly enchanted. He had never seen such a gentle expression on the man’s face, nor did he think he would ever see such a one again. Was this, he wondered, the power of music? 

Then why was he alone unaffected? Yes, he found it touching, but not to such an extent. He frowned and settled back once more. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He was rather tired by the end, his eyes drooping, yawns tugging at his lips endlessly. Still, when the performers were called to the stage to give their final bow, he too managed to stand and clap with everyone else. The only thoughts that plagued his mind, however, were those of the impending exam and whether or not he should spend more time studying on the morrow. 

The man ran a hand through his hair and looked to the side again. The lights had come back on. He managed to catch a glimpse of her eyes before she lowered her head and a curtain of white hair obscured them. She did however raise a hand and swipe quickly. 

“Alright, let’s go.” A gruff voice from his other side pulled his attention away from the young woman. Felix stood with his arms crossed, his gaze averted. 

Dimitri could find no reason to contest the request, so he merely nodded, shuffling through the row after his companion. They filed out through the back door, but after a moment, it became apparent that they were not alone. He glanced back and found that the young lady had followed after them, though without speaking. Her head was bowed and her eyes pinned to the ground, her hands stuffed into the pockets of her crimson coat. 

He paused, hesitating, wondering whether or not to comment.

Alas, the opportunity was stolen from him regardless. Someone burst through the door that they had gone through and a voice screeched through the night. 

“Edie!”

A blur of dark red and hazel rammed into the white-haired woman’s figure, nearly knocking her off her feet. Dimitri could only stared, baffled, not knowing whether to assist or leave them be. And he heard Felix curse under his breath a short distance away. 

“I’m so, so glad you came!” It was the songstress, the very woman that had been performing earlier. She embraced Edelgard familiarly, and he noted that the young woman had grown a bit tense. “Did you like it?”

“Dorothea.” She sighed, awkwardly patting the woman the shoulder. “Yes, you sounded lovely.” 

“Can we just—,” Felix gripped his arm and hissed, but before he could finish his venomous statement, the hazel-haired songstress happened to look up. 

Her eyes went wide and her lips parted into an astonished gape. “Felix?” She seemed aghast, and the man seemed uncomfortable, stepping away immediately. Both she and the woman she clung to peered at the man beside him, one in amazement, the other in confusion. He too was rather bewildered. 

Dorothea, as named by her friend, gasped again and released Edelgard, clasping her hands together in excitement. “Felix, you actually came!” Her voice seemed to rise a pitch and she beamed as though there was nothing more wonderful in the world. 

It became apparent to him to whom exactly Felix had made a promise. As he stared between the pair, his lips curled into a faint, knowing smile. His friend, despite the ever-growing scowl on his face, was in fact blushing, though difficult to see in the dim light of the campus lamps. Oh, that he would ever see the day.

Dimitri coughed quietly and stepped away, raising a brow. “It seems you two could use a moment.” With a smirk at his friend, who in turn looked absolutely furious, he added. “Felix, you should walk her to her dormitory.”

“Oh—that is a wonderful idea.” The woman hopped aboard the plan without hesitation, sidling closer and curling her arm around the grumpy man’s, completely indifferent to his irritation. She began to pull him away, but Felix made sure to glare at him for as long as he could as they walked away.

Oh well. It was not as though he had not faced the man’s anger before. Actually, he did nearly every day, it seemed. 

Dimitri realized with a start that he was not yet alone. Hurriedly, he turned to face the other remaining student, finding that she was already staring at him with what seemed to be her default expression—a keen, appraising gaze. “My apologies, I had not meant to take away your time with your friend.” 

“No. It is alright.” Whether or not she meant it, he could not tell. The young woman shrugged her shoulders and pulled her arms a little closer to her person. Perhaps she was cold—him being someone quite accustomed to such frigid temperatures, he was hardly bothered by the recent drop in temperatures. 

Dimitri shrugged off his own coat, determining that it would fit atop her shoulders, and offered it to her. “I could walk you back, if you would not mind my company, though admittedly it is a poor replacement.” 

Her lips curled up, just slightly and she raised her hand to take the offered garment. “Thank you.” There was a touch of amusement to her voice. He watched as she settled his coat over her shoulders, pleased to see that it did in fact fit—just a little too large for her smaller frame. “I live in the Eagles house.” 

“Oh?” Not too far from here. Dimitri stuck his hands in his pants pockets, raising his head to peer at the sky, riddled with white gleaming lights. The clouds had cleared completely and left it all unhindered. 

“I did not expect to see you there.” 

He looked down, finding that the woman had situated herself at his side, walking with him rather than behind him as before. “I could say the same to you.” There was something…almost illicitly exhilarating about this—walking together with a woman at night, almost as though they were on a… He pushed aside the thought immediately. He was not Sylvain; his life did not revolve around making women his conquests—he was merely walking her to her room. 

Edelgard scoffed quietly and pulled his coat closer, looking away. “If I had not, then I would not have heard the end of it. Besides, I enjoy music.” She paused and glanced up. “Do you?”

“I suppose I do.” Dimitri nodded slowly, raising his hands to his lips to blow warm air over them. He would probably need to start wearing gloves soon. “Though, I only came tonight because Felix—ah, my roommate cajoled me into going.” More like coerced, really. 

“I see.” The woman hummed. 

For a moment, there was no sound but the clack of her heels against the stone path, the gentle rustle of the wind blowing through the leaves. Despite the quiet, there was no tension, no unease—that he felt, anyway. 

“The exam,” He began again, suddenly realizing that he wanted to hear her voice. “How do you feel regarding it?”

Edelgard made a sound that might have been a hum. “Not one way or another. I feel confident enough to have escaped any stress over it.” 

He chuckled lamely and bowed his head. “I wish that I could say the same.” He supposed that he would assuredly pass, but simply passing was not enough. For him, at least. “There are yet a few concepts that elude me.”

“I am surprised to hear that.” The woman commented quietly, but her voice lacked malice. After a brief moment of deliberation, she cleared her throat. “I usually reside in the same place in the library. If you find me tomorrow, I could…maybe I could help you. To repay my debt.”

The final statement amused him and he laughed, noting the widening of her eyes, as though he had done something incomprehensible. “Debt, you say. I do not recall you incurring a debt. But, regardless, I would appreciate that.” The young man nodded, something warm and unfamiliar coiling in his chest. 

She halted suddenly, gesturing with her chin towards a darkened building. “This is where I live.” Edelgard quietly shrugged off his coat and folded it over her arm, extending it towards him. “Thank you, again. Good night.” 

“Good night.” His hand brushed against hers as he accepted his garment back. His eyes flicked upwards and met with hers—and the color always struck him, no matter how many times he looked. Her hair was windswept, silver strands streaking across her face. He resisted the urge to sweep them away. 

The moment scattered like ashes and she stepped away, and he could say nothing as she turned and departed for the building in which she lived. Dimitri stared after her, sighing. Did she…remember, he wondered. Anything? 

Perhaps it was foolish of him to hope that she did, but he always would. Those were precious memories to him. Even if she did not, there was still a shred of hope that they could craft more. 

The man sighed once more and pulled on his coat, looking forward to the morrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And thus, there's a hint of development? I still don't know whether I'm going to post them chronologically, but I guess that's how I tend to write, so it'll probably end up being that way. Also, yes, I ship another rarepair, Dorothea/Felix, sue me. But that's also just vaguely implied, the main focus is still Dimigard. 
> 
> We'll see how quickly I can get the other two ideas I mentioned done. I'm excited to write them, and it is a pleasant distraction from my own studies...


	3. A Withering Bloom, A Broken Dream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Even the most cherished flower withers with time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You thought this series was going to be posted in chronological order? You thought wrong! You thought I wouldn't be posting angst? FALSE!
> 
> In case your day was a little too happy, and you want to be punched in the feels, listen to: Goodbye by Apparat while you read. That's what I listened to while I wrote, in any case. (On Repeat)

She had thought the words over in her head, again and again and again. She had rehearsed them thoroughly, memorized each and every syllable as though they were the lyrics to a holly ballad. They were no such thing though, and despite her ceaseless practice and how long she had spent steeling her nerves—they stuck in her throat. 

The young woman sat across from her…what, lover? Was he still, or perhaps, after she dislodged the scathing phrases that scraped against her teeth, he would be no such thing.   
Perhaps it was to her fortune now that he was not looking at her. His earnest blue eyes peered elsewhere, pinned on something in the distance, or perhaps nothing at all. He did that sometimes, got thoroughly lost in the flow of his thoughts. She should have taken the moment to prepare herself once more, to spew the hateful words that she had spent so many nights rolling on her tongue, tasting them—hating the taste. 

Yes, she should have. But how could she? Instead, her own eyes settled upon him, marveling in the features of his countenance, the way his hair settled over his face in a sleek blond curtain. There was a hint of dishevelment to it—and there was darkness beginning to mar the pristine skin under his eyes. 

Now—it was the perfect moment; the opportunity was granted her while his attention was elsewhere. She opened her mouth and forced them through. “Are you alright?” No—not those. She swallowed a sigh, her shoulders drooping faintly as the young man startled and turned to look at her—and the exhaustion became ever more apparent. 

Dimitri heaved a breath and raised his hands to his face, achingly pressing his palms into his eyes. After a moment, he lowered them and forced a smile. He was doing that more often of late—putting on a façade of normalcy. His smile was hollow and did not reach his azure eyes. “Just a little tired.” The man lied—and had she been anyone else, she might have bought the lie.

She pressed her lips together and scanned his expression, seeking out the cracks in the mask. There were many. Too many. But now…was not the time to dwell on that. She had called him here with a specific intention. The woman pushed the swelling concern aside and raised her cup to her lips, her heart beginning to hammer like a heavy summer deluge against a window pane in her chest. 

Her tea tasted bitter. Too bitter—or maybe it was the words that formed on the tip of her tongue. Edelgard forced herself to swallow the fluid, noting that she had steeped the tea too long. Ferdinand would probably chide her for that, ruining a precious cup of tea so. 

There it was again—distracting thoughts. Anything, it seemed. Her mind would conjure anything to keep from pushing them free, to keep from shattering the beautiful, illusory image that they had so long been crafting. 

“You seem…distressed.” He spoke, startling her, just as she had startled him. But she did not look up. The young woman allowed the gentle chatter of the coffee shop around them to fill the following silence to avoid responding. “Are you alright?” He asked again, and this time, she forced herself to meet his gaze. 

It was not fair, she realized, peering into his eyes. It was not fair to him, keeping him in suspense like this—letting him continue the charade while she pretended to remain ignorant. Edelgard lowered her cup and took a breath. “Dimitri.” His name felt like an anchor as it fell from her lips, weighted, heavy. She had once breathed it in ecstasy, whispered it like a prayer. “This…this needs to end.”

They remained there for a moment, the words. They remained, and even seemed to echo—or perhaps they only did to her. Her heart stammered, stuttered as he looked at her, and she found that it was incredibly difficult, harder than she would have imagined to keep his gaze. 

Because while it dawned on him, what it was that she had said, exactly, she watched the light dwindle from his blue, blue eyes. 

To distract herself from it, perhaps even to protect herself and her own heart—perhaps in a desperate attempt to justify those ugly words, and pick up the pieces of her own breaking, shattering heart, she began to speak. “I am leaving—after graduation, that is. I am going home; there is far too much waiting for me, and so I have to go. You and I have our own paths to tread, and they will not cross from here-on, thus I believe that it is prudent that we part ways now rather than drag this on any further than it needs to.”  
Even to herself, she sounded like a broken record, spitting senseless, redundant excuses, making it seem as though her decision was indeed the logical one. Why did they seem so feeble? Weak? Her rousing speech died on her lips as she watched him, a tendril of steam curling between them as the tea before her cooled. 

He said nothing for a long while—too long, she thought. 

“Dimitri?” The word left her tongue in a mere, small whisper, quiet and frightened. Edelgard cleared her throat, straightening, once again bringing forth the façade of invulnerability. “Please say something.” Invulnerable—then why did she sound so desperate? 

As if blinking himself from a misty-eyed stupor, the man leaned back, raking his fingers through the blond lock that hang in front of his eye. “What would you have me say?” His voice was rougher than she had expected it to be—raspier than she had grown accustomed to hearing. “You have said everything already.” There was a resignation to his tone that frightened her. No—how could he—he never sounded like that. 

“So you…are you content with this?” She asked in what might have been a gentle murmur. 

The blond man turned his head away and once again gazed outside, expressionless. “Content?” A bitter laugh tumbled weakly from his lips. “What does that matter? I know you well enough, El. I will not waste my breath attempting to dissuade you. It has never worked.” 

It made her angry. It made her angry that he was right—that even if he did fall to his knees and beg, even if it did break her heart past the point of repair, that nothing would change. There was nothing to be done. 

Her eyes trailed down his face, lingering on his lips. She had kissed them once—twice; many times. She had combed her fingers through his hair as he rested his head atop her lap and unwittingly fallen asleep. She had spent countless nights curled around him, countless nights wrapped in his embrace. 

And those beautiful, warm memories would remain in her mind, trapped in her heart. But now, the fanciful illusion of a fairytale ending and joy-filled days spent holding each other’s hands had to be broken. She had ambitions to see through, and so did he. He lived in the frigid north, she in the warm south; they had lives waiting outside the bubble of the university where time had seemed endless. 

His eyes flicked to the table; his fingers tapped distractedly against the wood. His cup remained untouched by his arm. “Did I make you happy, El?” 

She had almost not heard him. It had been a mumble, too quiet in the din of their environment. But, she had. If someone had thrust a knife through her heart, it might have hurt less. She pressed her hands together, twined her fingers to keep from reaching over and touching him as had become so normal for her. Brush away a lock of hair. Trace the arch of brow. “Yes.” The woman choked on the word, startled by the swell of emotion that had so suddenly gripped her heart. 

A gentle smile flickered across his lips—doleful and bleak. His chin dipped in a curt nod and he cleared his throat quietly. “Good.” Was she cruel? She seemed cruel, unimaginably cruel, even to herself. “What then, shall we go on as fre—,”

“Strangers.” She finished for him, a tendril of loathing curling in her chest. Loathing…for what? “I do not know you, and you do not know me.”

Only then did a flicker of indignation sweep through his eyes. “El—,” He began, but stopped himself quickly. “Edelgard, do you not think that is—,” 

Too cruel? Yes, of course it was. But perhaps that was for the better. Perhaps it was better that he hated her, never looked at her again. “It would be easier. For both of us. At least then we could pretend that there is not some lingering…affection between us.” The word felt like poison on her tongue, blistering painfully. 

Before she could lose her nerve, the woman stood up suddenly, picking up her bag. “Thank you, Dimitri, for the time you have given me. I will cherish the memories that we have made.” It felt like a feeble attempt at parting, but given the circumstance and the unfamiliar desire to cry swelling her chest, it was the best that she could do. “Goodbye.”   
Tears were already hanging off her lashes as she swept through the café door, clutching her bag with a vice grip. 

I do not know him. She repeated in her head. She did not know him. Never did. Never laughed with him. Never kissed him. Never held him. Never. Never. Never.

And never would again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I was originally intending to stay in a generally linear timeline, going along their relationship as it developed, but this idea came to me suddenly and I jotted it down and now we all get to be sad. This chapter sort of builds the foundation for a future one too, so there's that. 
> 
> So, henceforth, I guess I'm posting whatever the heck I feel like writing, not necessarily sticking to a distinct point in time. I still find it funny that I wrote Dimigard's breakup before I wrote them actually get together, but hey, I was just feeling it. 
> 
> But yeah, next ficlet will ~probably~ be another soft one. 
> 
> (Also, do expect a darker, more depressing one-shot to appear sooner or later, because God, I find feral, bloodthirsty Dimitri super hot and I want to write that)


	4. Unfortunate Obligations and A Cup of Coffee

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It truly is one thing after another with those he calls his friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here's something chill again. 
> 
> Enjoy~?

The first thought that crossed his mind was that of why in Sothis’ name he kept allowing his so-called friends to keep dragging him into their ordeals. 

But the young man bit back a scathing remark and sighed, dragging a hand down his face. “Sylvain—truly,” 

“Oh, come on Dimitri!” The ginger-haired boy whined in that familiar pathetic manner of his, clapping his hands together as though to beg. “Just do me this one favor—I won’t bother you again for the rest of the year.” 

Oh, now that was a lie if he had ever heard one. He narrowed his eyes at his friend, wondering how he had managed to tolerate him for the many years that he had known him. His behavior was incorrigible, and for as long as he could remember, it had never changed. “No.” Dimitri kept his resolve, crossing his arms in front of his chest. He wanted to study, not to go gallivanting alongside the womanizing fool as he tried to woo yet another unfortunate girl into his bed for a night. 

Ashe had complained to him many times of just how often he came back to their shared dorms to find a young lady, half-dressed, meekly scurry out. Dimitri truly felt sorry for Ingrid, but nothing he, or any of their friends said did anything to clean up the young man’s act. 

But, Sylvain was a crafty one, and he somehow always managed to get what he wanted. “Dima, seriously. I really like this girl, but her friend is totally into you, and you know, won’t go on a date unless you join me. It’ll be fun.” Like a serpent, he kept wiggling his way through his defenses.

“Fun?” He scoffed, holding back a groan. For once, he wished that Felix were here. At least he had no trouble rejecting Sylvain’s ridiculous requests. Everyone told him he was too nice, and he was starting to believe that they were right—it seemed that some had no qualm taking advantage of that. “No, it would not, Sylvain. I have no desire to lead some poor girl into a misunderstanding. And you,” He frowned, appraising his friend. “You need to start paying a little more attention to your studies.” 

Evidently, that had been the wrong thing to say. A devilish smirk slid across the man’s face and he shrugged innocently. “Maybe. And maybe you need to loosen up and get laid.” Oh by Saint Seiros. “But how’s this for a compromise. You come with me, just give her a chance—if you don’t like her, then ok, it’s all good. If you go, I’ll start going to class and you know, apply myself to my education.” 

Only he could make that sound like the most excruciating chore in existence. 

But Dimitri hesitated, and he knew immediately that he had already lost. The blond man sighed and shut his eyes, inwardly cursing himself and the foolish man before him. “Alright.” He growled, slamming the cup he had been holding on the metal table beside him. There was a loud sound and suddenly there was no longer a mug—just a pile of ceramic pieces and a dent where he had mistakenly struck the table…a little too hard. 

Both he and Sylvain merely stared at it for a moment.

“Uh…” The red-haired man rubbed his chin, nodding slowly. “Ok. Cool. See you later then.” 

Dimitri was not one to curse very often, but having accidently broken the table, the mug, and his own resolve, he could not restrain himself this time. 

~~~~~~~~

The young woman stifled a yawn, pressing the back of her hand to her lips. She had not meant to stay up so late, but of course, not everything always went as planned. As such, she had almost overslept too. 

Edelgard huffed irritably, pulling her scarf a little further up her chin. She desperately needed coffee—caffeine. Energy. And warmth, of course. The closer it got to winter, the colder it became, and she did not quite enjoy the cold. 

She hurried through the door of the café, sighing in relief as a breath of warm air puffed over her suddenly. Without a moment of hesitation, she strode to the end of the line, raising her eyes to the menu. Choices, choices… If Hubert were here, he would simply order a black coffee, no cream, no sugar. But, of course, she was not Hubert and enjoyed a bit of flavor to her beverage. 

The special this week seemed to be a maple latte—the concept seemed appealing, she supposed. 

Edelgard confirmed her order mentally and glanced around, noting how long the line was today. It was not usually so…busy here. But perhaps as finals were coming and it was growing increasingly cold outside, it should not have been so surprising that a greater number of patrons would arrive to find respite in a warm cup of coffee, or tea.   
Indeed, it was quite full today. The tables and booths seemed to all be taken up—barely any room for anyone to sit. Understandable, it was warm inside. 

Her eyes danced from table to table, a mundane habit to distract herself from the waiting. However, in a moment, the mundane grew less so as she spotted a familiar head of golden-blond hair. 

The young woman blinked, somewhat surprised to find her classmate here—and even more astonishing, he was not alone as she had at first believed. No, he sat with another male student, and two female students. She only vaguely recognized the red-haired man, having perhaps seen him elsewhere, but the girls, she did not know. 

Curious and guilty both, she kept an eye on the group. It became quickly apparent that it was a date—at least, for the red-haired man and the girl across from him, who were very evidently flirting back and forth. However, as she turned her attention back to the blond, she noted that he certainly seemed less at ease than his companion.   
Though he still smiled and listened attentively to the girl gushing enthusiastically from across from him, there was a strain to his lips and his eyes seemed pained. 

“May I take your order?” 

She flinched and turned back to the counter, offering an apologetic smile to the young woman behind it. “Yes, a maple latte please—sixteen ounce.” Edelgard bit her lip as she offered her card, her brows furrowing as she pondered his presence, and the cause for his discomfort. Admittedly, it was not that obvious—his friend certainly was unaware.  
She had only noticed because she made it a point to observe others and their expressions. 

The woman stepped out of the way of the line that had formed behind her, walking aside to wait for her drink, placing herself subtly beside the blond man’s table. He had not noticed her, of course. 

Edelgard pulled out her phone and pretended to scroll through something, listening in, only slightly guilty at doing so. 

“And I’ve heard so much about you—I’ve been wanting to meet you. I just, I’ve always watched you and was always too scared to approach you, because you know, you’re so handsome and intimidating and cool and—,”

Not that there was much to listen to. She sighed and shook her head, realizing why the man looked so tired. It sounded as though he were entertaining an enamored fan more than a real person. She would hardly let him get a word in edgewise. 

She glanced at the girl with a frown, then flicked her gaze to Dimitri, scanning his expression. It remained the same—blank smile, his chin propped on a fist—it seemed as though his head were elsewhere entirely. He had not seemed the type to go out on such excursion to her, and it seemed that it might have been true. 

He did not seem as though he wanted to be there at all. 

She remained in place a moment longer, debating whether or not to bother him. Her deliberation was given pause as she heard her name called. Sighing, she turned to fetch her beverage, walking out the café door without a moment more. 

However, she flicked open her contacts and scrolled until she found his name, her thumb hovering just above the button. He had given her his information when they had studied together, a while ago now. She had not used it yet. Edelgard stopped walking, staring at the screen, pondering, thinking. 

The woman turned her head slightly, recalling his expression. 

With a sigh, her finger fell and hit the button, and she lifted the phone to her ear.

~~~~~~~~

A sudden vibration in his pocket startled him from the stupor he had fallen into. 

Dimitri flinched and began patting his jacket pockets, searching for the device which he keenly felt, all too aware of the girl’s eyes upon him. He looked up and offered her another strained smile—something he had been doing frequently the past hour, or two—however long it had been. 

At last he found his phone, barely caring to check the caller ID before accepting it and lifting the device to his ear. He mouthed a ‘sorry’ to the girl across from him and stood, walking a short distance away. “Hello?” A breath of relief unwittingly escaped his lips.   
A pause, and then a woman’s voice echoed in his ear. “Dimitri.” 

He blinked, wondering if he had heard correctly. The man glanced back, his brows furrowing, shifting his phone from hand to hand, and lifting his wrist to check his watch. “Is this…Edelgard?” He rolled the name in his mouth, unaccustomed to saying it. 

“Yes.” Clipped, as though the speaker were uncomfortable herself. If so, why was she calling to begin with? “Are you free right now?” 

“Er…” He let his eyes trail back to his table. Sylvain was still thoroughly engrossed in detailing an exaggerated tale to his date—who was in turn barely paying attention to anything else. The girl that had been speaking ceaselessly to him was fiddling with her teaspoon, her head down as she waited. He was torn. 

The woman did not wait for his response. “I wanted to discuss the previous lecture with you. There was something that I did not quite understand and I thought to ask you.” That was surprising enough in itself. 

Dimitri cleared his throat and licked his lips, nodding to himself. “Alright then. Ah, yes. I will see you shortly then.” His heart thumped in his chest, exhilarated and just faintly remorseful. But then, he had not wanted to come here in the first place; Sylvain had dragged him here. He heard the click and found that she had ended the call. Well, here was the perfect excuse. 

He stuffed his phone back into his pocket and schooled his expression into an apologetic one. “I am so sorry—I have somewhere I need to go.” The man said as he returned to his table, not sitting down. 

“Oh…” She did seem disappointed, but disappointment was easy enough to overcome. “Ok then. Thank you for talking to me.” She forced a smile, and he returned one, nodding in farewell as he left, hardly able to walk fast enough.

He pulled his coat closer and heaved a sigh of relief as he finally found himself outside, the autumn air crisp. 

A flicker of white drew his eyes and he turned his head—and just as he looked at her, the woman replaced her own cellphone into her pocket, raising her eyes to meet with his. An impish smile flickered across her lips and she pushed off of the tree she had been leaning against, slowing striding towards him. 

“You—,” He was taken aback, astounded to see her here. Dimitri had been expecting to see her at the library, their usual meeting place. 

Edelgard raised her cup to her lips and took a sip, shrugging. “You looked as though you wanted to leave.” She murmured, turning her head and looking elsewhere. “I hope I was not too presumptuous in doing this.” 

He shook his head, a laugh falling from his lips. “No—not at all. I am, well, yes, I am grateful. Surprised, but grateful.” The man smiled bitterly and looked away, just as she had. “I am no good when it comes to such matters. I had not even wanted to, but Sylvain…” There was no need to finish the statement, it was evident enough what it would be. 

To his surprise, the woman laughed briskly, a clear sound—reminding him of autumn itself. “You seem to get trapped in your friend’s machinations frequently.” She pinned him with a reproachful stare, her brows furrowing sternly. “You should learn to reject their requests—it should not do to allow yourself to be tugged to and fro upon their every whim.”   
He knew that well enough—he had chided himself regarding the same thing before. “I know.” He sighed, running a hand through his hair, releasing a breath. It became a curling mist in the cold air. 

“And yet…” 

She began, and he glanced up, his brows rising at the tender expression that had warmed her countenance. A soft smile adorned her lips—and for that moment, she seemed so unguarded, so unlike the usual cold woman she depicted herself to be. 

“I think that is yet another endearing aspect to you. I almost envy…” A sharp breath and she shook her head, quietly clearing her throat. The woman tossed her hair and looked up, her mask back in place. “Regardless, I am currently available, and I was not entirely lying when I had said I wished to discuss the lecture with you.”

Dimitri felt a tendril of warmth coil in his chest. She was truly—she did not mind spending time with him? She had been the one to suggest this, so what was he to make of that?   
“So?” Edelgard raised a brow, shifting her weight from one foot to the other.

“Yes. Please.” He could not help the smile that overtook his countenance almost automatically. “I would like that.” 

Sylvain would surely understand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who's started writing a freaking dark/depressing one-shot? That's right, I have. I probably won't post it for a while because I actually want to build some of their romance before getting anywhere near the future awaiting them, but I just really wanted to try writing "Boarmitri" and the darker aspect of his character.
> 
> Aside from that, how would you guys feel about a nsfw-chapter? I do want to write one, and I probably will, but whether or not I post depends on if people would care to read it. I don't like writing overly explicit things, so I try to keep stuff tasteful, but the rating will change to M regardless. 
> 
> But before THAT, I'll continue adding to their romance because we all really want to read that, barring angst. Til next time~?
> 
> You know I have to write the inevitable cliched college party. I might do that next.


	5. Frivolity and a Hint of Attraction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was truly inevitable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here comes some actual(?) romance? 
> 
> Disclaimer: I am an introverted college student that goes to class and comes home and I have never attended a uni party, so of course, I'm basing this chapter off of the various media representations of what one might look like.

She reminded herself never to allow herself to get roped into owing Dorothea a debt again.   
Edelgard sighed as for what seemed the hundredth time that day, the brunette pestered her. The woman had begun to consider merely forcing the annoyance out of her dorm room and shutting the door. And of course, locking it. 

But common decency won over and she shut her eyes, pinching the bridge of her nose to restrain the surge of irritation that swept through her. There might have been a hint of a headache forming too. “Dorothea…” She growled stiffly, interrupting the girl before she could chatter her into a rage. “Will you just drop it?” 

“Oh, heavens no, Edie!” The woman gasped, jolting upright from her leisurely position on Edelgard’s bed. “Of course I won’t.” She simpered, a rather faux saccharine smile curling her lips. “As one of your few friends, it is imperative that I see to your wellbeing and health—including your social health. It has come to my attention that you are severely lacking in, you know, friends.”

Edelgard raised her eyes heavenward, having been subjected to this tirade before. “Dorothea—,” She heaved a sigh, unwilling to go through this particular chastisement again.   
“No—you listen to me!” The woman pointed an accusatory finger at her, frowning. “I understand that your studies are important, I do! But…your lack of genuine intimate relationships frightens me! As does the lack of respite you give yourself.”

“And you think that going to a raucous fraternity party will change that?” If anything, going to an event like that would do nothing more than give her a headache worse than the one her friend was currently giving her. She had made it a point to avoid such frivolous congregations. 

The woman gave her a pointed glance, crossing her arms defiantly. It was a look she knew well, and one that admittedly she could not win against. She pressed her own lips together, meeting the woman’s stare with one of her own, her brows furrowing. 

“Are you seriously going to go through your entire university career without taking part in one of the staple experiences of youth?” The hazel-haired woman raised a brow, asking disbelievingly—as though the notion had never crossed her mind that some people did not care for such pointless excursions. 

“Why, yes. That was the plan.” Edelgard swiveled in her chair and faced the woman, crossing her arms over her chest, mirroring her friend’s pose. It had been the plan. Now that she was face to face with an obstinate force of will however, her mind might as well have been burnt to cinders. Edelgard knew well that continuing to resist Dorothea’s whims would only serve to make things worse. If she simply agreed now, she would earn herself a modicum of peace. 

And on the night of said frivolity, she might even fall prey to a sudden illness and thus renege on her promise to attend. 

And so the woman bit her tongue and nodded curtly. “But for you, Dorothea…Well, I suppose I have little choice.” 

The hazel-haired woman gasped and clapped her hands, beaming. “Wonderful! Oh, Edie, we have to go shopping!”

She had been wrong to believe that the torment had ceased. Stifling a groan, the young woman shut her eyes and cursed her luck and her momentary naiveté regarding her companion. Of course it had been too optimistic to believe that Dorothea would have been content with merely a spoken word. 

And so, Edelgard thought as Dorothea proceeded to gush about the latest trending fashions and what they should purchase, she would never succumb to such outrageous requests henceforth. 

~~~~~~~~~~

“Dorothea, please—I truly do feel quite out of order.” Edelgard fibbed as the woman came to retrieve her. “I think I may even feel a bit feverish.” To emphasize the severity of her non-existent illness, the woman pressed a hand to her forehead, furrowing her brows in concern. “I think I should—,”

“What—sick? Really?” Her friend’s eyes went wide and she gasped, clapping a hand to her cheek with her usual dramatic flair. “Oh my, Edie. How utterly convenient for you.” Dorothea fluttered her lashes, absolutely unconvinced. “But, if that’s the case…should I call Hubie for you?” A devilish smirk graced her lovely countenance—because Dorothea knew just as well as she did that the man tended to be a bit…aggressive when it came to her health and safety.

Edelgard bit her lip, briefly pondering and weighing the benefits and consequences of continuing the ruse. If she decided to resume feigning an illness, then Dorothea would certainly call Hubert—and then she would be stuck with him overenthusiastically tending to her. And he could be astoundingly stifling when it came to matters such as those.  
So the other option was…

She raised her eyes to tiredly stare at her friend, wholly defeated and bitter. The woman, dressed in a rather revealing manner in simply a short, tight black dress, stood with her hands clasped together, an impish smile on her lips. 

At the very least, she could wait until the woman was thoroughly distracted and then she could slip away on her own.

With a groan, Edelgard swung her door open wider to allow the woman in, wincing at the gleeful shriek that escaped her lips. 

~~~~~~~~~~

“Just relax—you look stunning!” 

Though, it was Dorothea fretting over her more than herself. Edelgard was by no means an unconfident woman—she was assured to a degree that some might call arrogant. Thus she had no qualm with the state of her appearance and was in fact entirely, as her friend had said, relaxed. Aside from, of course, the swelling trepidation of attending one of these ridiculous events. 

She spared the woman beside her an irritable glance and sighed, smoothing down her hair instinctively. “Where are we even going?” Edelgard grumbled as she walked, rubbing her arms to ward off the cold. It was spring, not yet warm—not warm enough to dress as they were dressed.

How Dorothea wasn’t absolutely frigid, she did not understand. Even her red leggings and jacket did not help all that much. 

“Why, here, of course.” With yet another coy smile, the songstress extended her hand to a dormitory building from which was emitted loud, tasteless music. A wonderful sign.   
But to her surprise, as she looked up, she found that it was the Lion House dorm—unexpected, to say the least. She blinked, schooling her astonishment into a mask of indifference. “Fine. Lead the way.” There was small, very small niggling question forming in her mind. This was…where a certain blond resided after all. Not that that mattered at all. 

Dorothea giggled and hurried onward, inviting herself inside without hesitation—and as soon as the door opened, the music seemed to engulf her ears, swell in her skull in throbbing pulses. She grimaced and followed her friend, already wary. 

If she could say anything about the interior, it was at the very least much warmer than it had been outside. Unsurprising considering the number of writhing bodies sweating against each other. 

Edelgard looked on with a measure of revulsion, amazed that the songstress would lower herself to attend such an uncivilized, dare she say, rudimentary congregation. She stood in the doorway, stiff and rather uncomfortable as Dorothea immediately recognized someone and waved a cheerful hand in greeting. 

“Oh don’t look so glum!” The woman had to shout to be heard over the noise, despite her close proximity. She looked downright thrilled herself, beaming as she looked around. Dorothea gripped her arm and shook her gently. “Go on and meet someone! Have some fun, Edie.” 

The chance to offer a scathing reply was robber of her as someone jogged towards them, grinning himself. He struck her as familiar. Her eyes narrowed as she tried to recall where she had seen him—ginger-haired, that faux-looking, charming smile… Ah, she had seen him some time ago at a coffee shop. 

“Oh, now the party can really start. Dorothea, so glad you came! How about a kiss?” He grinned and raised his hand as though to engulf the woman in an embrace.

“Keep dreaming, prince charming.” Her smile had been about as genuine as his as she responded, her tone sickeningly sweet. They embraced briefly regardless, and it seemed that they were acquaintances, if not closer.

The ginger turned to her, his eyes widening as he, evidently, recognized her. “Oh—you! Wow, what are you doing here?”

She scoffed and tossed her hair, narrowing her eyes at him. “Is my presence a hindrance? Or did you assume me to be incapable of enjoying myself?” It was purely circumstantial—and her enjoyment did not stem from being here, but she was not going to let herself be painted that color. If only for the sake of her pride.

The man raised his hands defensively, his brows rising. “Hey—I didn’t say that. Just thought, I don’t know, you didn’t seem the kind of gal to join such a sinful gathering.” He snickered and rubbed the back of his neck, sweeping his arm out to invite them further in. “But hey, cool to see you either way. Snacks and drinks in the kitchen, games and other fun things to your right. Bathrooms, that way.” He pointed down a hall, then backed away, shrugging. “Enjoy, ladies.” 

She stifled yet another sigh, already knowing that she would be doing so often this evening. 

She roved her eyes around the room they were in now—the foyer, evidently the space for dancing…if the strange, jerky motions could even be described as such. And there was barely any space to move—everyone was pressed against everyone. How could they stand such a revolting environment? 

“Let’s go get some drinks!”

She barely heard her friend, only aware of the sudden sensation of being forcibly dragged forward. Oh, Saint Seiros… 

She was pulled through the crowd, wincing every time someone pushed against her, truly feeling feverish now. But blessedly the trek was short and the kitchen was markedly less occupied and much quieter, to her relief. There were a few groups standing about, chattering with each other. There was one woman with long sandy colored hair offering drinks, a kindly smile on her face.

“Hi Mercie!” Dorothea chirped—and once again, Edelgard was reminded that the songstress could likely name every attendee. “Can you get us a drink?” 

The woman turned at the sound of her voice, her smile growing a little brighter. “Oh, yes—of course.” Her voice was as gentle as her face would have suggested—and to Edelgard, it seemed that such a woman was too…refined to be here, simply serving drinks and meager refreshments. “Here you go; but do be careful—I’m not too sure what Sylvain put in here.” 

The woman offered her a red cup, and though she was hesitant, she could not decline, meekly thanking her. Raising it to her lips, she was stung by the pungent smell of alcohol—a hint of a sweet, fruity fragrance mingling within it. She glanced at her friend, watching as the woman downed the beverage without a second thought. She did not know whether to be impressed or concerned. 

But if Dorothea deemed it safe… 

She hesitantly lifted it to her lips, allowing some fluid to slip between them. Sweet, cold—and oh, there was definitely a strong kick to it. Not unpleasant, she supposed, in the matter of taste. Regardless, she was not going to indulge in too much. 

“Pardon my asking,” The soft voice from before spoke and her attention was drawn upward. “Would you happen to be Edelgard?”

She could not stifle her surprise at hearing her name—she had never met this woman before herself. “Yes.” She answered smoothly, glancing at Dorothea, wondering if perhaps her name had been spoken before through her. “I must apologize, I do not know yours.” She recalled her manners, lowering the cup as she spoke.

The woman lifted a hand to her mouth and chuckled demurely. “Oh, that’s alright. I’m Mercedes. It’s just that, his highness speaks of you—,”

Who?

She blinked, her brows rising at the gracious title bestowed upon…whomever. Yet, despite her astonishment and bewilderment, Dorothea seemed to accept the nickname, smiling knowingly as she sipped at her drink—what was left of it. 

It seemed that the woman quickly realized that she was not at all aware to whom she had been referring, for she once again laughed in that gentle way of hers, waving her hand apologetically. “Dimitri—that is,” And once again, a surge of surprise bolted down her spine. 

A few inquiries drifted into her mind, chiefly… “His highness?” She repeated, wondering herself at the strange title. 

Mercedes smiled and nodded. “It’s just a little game we all play—to tease him. You could say he’s the ‘king’ of the soccer team. Well, captain, really.” She gestured outward, still smiling kindly. “This party’s a celebration for their team. They won.” 

Dorothea, quiet until that point, nudged her way into the conversation, innocuously inquiring of the woman. “Say, speaking of soccer…is it true that he kicked the ball so hard it actually bent the goal-post?” 

Edelgard peered at her friend, astounded that she had heard such a thing. But even more of a surprise was the answer they received.

The woman sighed and shook her head, pressing her hand to her cheek in the way a mother might when preparing to chastise her child. “Oh my, so it has gotten out. Yes, he has done that.” She clicked her tongue and rested her hands on her hips. “Well, Dimitri is quite strong, so he’s really constantly breaking things. He broke a pair of scissors the other day trying to help me.”

Now, that was truly unexpected. That earnest, cheerful man had brute strength enough to break a pair of scissors? She did not quite know how to respond, and so chose to take another swallow of the sweet beverage. And—he spoke of her? To his dorm mates? 

“Now, Mercie, would you kindly tell me where I can find Felix?” Her friend asked sweetly, and Edelgard surveyed her expression, noting that her eyes had brightened in a rather enthusiastic way.

“Felix?” She seemed surprised to hear the query, but she tapped her chin and hummed. “Well, if he’s been dragged out of his room, then I’m betting he’s in the game room.”   
Dorothea thanked her and waved her hand in farewell before curling her fingers around Edelgard’s arm once again, and similarly, dragging her away from the quiet kitchen and back amongst the rowdy party-goers. 

She raised her eyes heavenward and took another drink, already tired, though they had not even been there half an hour. 

After another few grueling moments trying to traverse the no-less thin crowd of dancers, Dorothea pulled her into yet another crowded room, though this time, the crowd was formed into a ring of spectators around a table. 

Dorothea settled them somewhere near the front of the room, pushing through the others to see better. “Ooh—there he is!” She squealed, pulling her sharply to point to exactly whom she had been referring. And just as before, she recognized that sharp, scowling face. The man stood against the wall, his arms crossed, but his eyes focused on the game occurring before him.

A game in which, to her disbelief, a certain blond was participating.

“He is playing…beer pong?” She asked aloud, mostly to herself really, just to see if the words were more believable than what her eyes perceived. 

Yes, there he was, her classmate—turning friend, of sorts, standing at the helm of his side of the table, facing off against another familiar face. The man across from him, dark-haired and confident, had a pink-haired woman hanging off his shoulders, shouting obscene encouragements and derogatory phrases at the other team. “Hilda and Claude. Of course.” She sighed, shaking her head, her eyes drawn back to the blonde’s back. 

It was Claude’s turn to throw, it seemed. 

“Ok, ok—settle down.” The man grinned and shook the girl off, rolling his shoulder and narrowing his eyes as he aimed. “Get fucked.” He winked at his opponent, and threw the ball. And, unsurprisingly, it landed. 

A cheer erupted through the room and the man raised his hands in victory, grinning. And while everyone turned their attention to the game’s champion, she watched the blond man down the last cup, his own team clapping his back as he drank. Her brows rose at the sight. 

He finished the cup and crushed it in his hand, tossing it aside. He looked rather flushed, his eyes rather glassy. Edelgard could honestly admit that she had never thought she would be seeing a drunk Dimitri—and yet, there he was, seemingly thoroughly buzzed. 

She turned to Dorothea, only to find that the woman was no longer at her side. Swallowing a curse, she raised her eyes and swiveled her head, searching for a head of long hazel curls—and she found it in moments, at the far side of the room, next to a taciturn man. 

Seriously. 

The woman closed her eyes and took a breath, regretting it moments after the heady scents of perfumes, colognes, sweat, musk—everything wafted into her nose. Either way, now that the woman was distracted, maybe she could finally leave.

And she turned to do so, still holding on to the red cup, quite full still. Before she could take two steps, a voice stopped her. “Edelgard?”

Her pulse seemed to spike, but nonetheless, she remained in place as the owner of that voice shoved his way to her side. 

She raised her gaze, once again finding herself surprised by the height difference between them, craning her neck to find his eyes. His hair was disheveled, some of the golden strands plastered to his forehead—and as she had thought before, his cheeks were a little redder than usual. But, as she inspected him, his lips bloomed with a beautiful smile, striking her yet again with his earnestness. 

“Ah, yes. Good evening.” She greeted, knowing that she sounded formal, stiff, and inwardly cursing herself for it. He looked…well, he was dressed far more casually than she had yet seen him. A pair of slim-fitting jeans and a black tee—and yet, it suit him too. 

Someone pushed past them, forcing them both to step out of their way, and he seemed to snap out of his daze, clearing his throat. “This way.” He gestured with his head, and she felt strangely compelled to follow despite having wished to depart early only a moment prior. 

“That was, um, quite the display.” She said, for lack of a better subject to bring up, forced to shout as he led her back to the noisy foyer. 

“Ah—well,” The man shrugged, pausing to smile in greeting at someone as he passed. “They goaded me into playing.” She was not surprised to hear it. 

“Against Claude? You had no chance.” The captain of the archery team—of course his aim would be stupendous. 

He laughed, falling back into one of the sofas resting against the wall, beckoning her to join him. “A worthy challenge.” The man grinned in a way she had found to be endearing.   
She settled herself beside him, clasping both hands around her cup, staring down at the reddish liquid inside, distractedly swirling it against the sides. “Let me guess, they made you attend too.” 

“Not really.” He shrugged, raising a hand to sweep his hair aside. “It was supposed to be a celebration. Sylvain did work hard on hosting it so it would have been remiss of me to be absent, as captain of the team.” 

That’s right—their team won. She cleared her throat and looked up, biting her tongue briefly. “Congratulations, by the way.” Though she had not even known that he was a sportsman until very recently. 

His smile softened and he nodded his head. “Thank you.” He had probably guessed at her ignorance of his extracurricular achievements, but said nothing of it.   
A gentle quiet descended between them. It was the kind of quiet that she was comfortable with—not one that needed to be filled with empty chatter. Besides, the room was loud enough—or, had been. 

She raised her head, noting that the lights had been dimmed and more poignantly, that the music had changed. A softer, slower melody trickled out of whatever system it was being played off of. The wild thrashing had become a slow sway. 

“Do you want to?”

She hummed halfheartedly, having been too distracted to take notice of what he had asked. 

But a heartbeat passed and she straightened, turning her head towards him. He was staring at her, those blue eyes innocent and hopeful. What if…she rejected him? Her heart clenched at the thought of seeing those beautiful eyes dim, of seeing sorrow mar his face. 

And…well, it was him. She supposed, that of everyone in this room, she knew him best. Trusted him best. “I…ok.” Edelgard nodded, glancing at her drink again. She could hardly let it go to waste. So as he stood up, she tilted her head back and swallowed the rest of the contents, grimacing slightly at the taste.

She wiped her lips and placed her palm atop his waiting hand, leaving the empty cup behind. 

Edelgard allowed him to lead her towards the group, swallowing thickly. Despite herself, trepidation coiled in her chest. Everyone around them was coupled. Did that make them…one too? 

She pushed the thought from her mind as he found a place, turning her to face him—and she found that she could hardly bring herself to look at his face. There was a foreign mortification building in her heart, a swell of distracting heat crawling up her neck. Because his hands were on her waist.   
The woman glanced around hesitantly, unsure as to what to do with her own hands, looking for inspiration, or at the very least, some cues. She noted that some were pressed together entirely—embracing more than dancing. Most others seemed to be positioned similarly to themselves, and she noted that many women had their arms around their partners’ necks.

Very well. She could do that too. 

Edelgard steeled herself and carefully dragged her palms up his chest, noting that his breath hitched quietly, and slowly, thoughtfully, curled her arms around his neck—as best she could. He bent slightly accommodate for height, but in doing so, brought their faces closer together. 

And so she was left with nowhere else to look. 

The world may as well have melted away, because in that moment, the world did not exist. The other bodies around them did not exist. She saw his face, his eyes, his nose—his lips. She saw him. And she wondered if he saw her.

A gentle sensation tickled the side of her face. He thumbed a strand of hair from her cheek, his eyes softening. And again she found herself unguarded, unmasked—as only seemed to happen before him. 

She was lost. Lost. And she did not know if she wanted to be found. 

She kept his gaze as he leaned down. Kept his gaze as his nose nudged against her own. 

She closed her eyes. 

He brushed his lips against her own. 

Her heart stuttered and a wave of warmth washed over her face, heating the tips of her ears. 

Again—the faint sensation, so soft, almost fearful. And she almost, almost wanted to respond. But the world flickered back into existence and she was forced to remember who she was, who he was, where they were. 

Her eyes snapped open and she flicked them upwards, peering at him incredulously. He had kissed her. Twice. She…did not know what she was permitted to feel and so it was confusion that settled like a thick fog over her mind and heart. 

Dimitri looked down at her, suddenly much less assured than he had been a moment prior. His countenance was fraught with apprehension, his eyes unsure as he scanned her face. 

“I…” She unfurled her arms and stepped away, pressing her hand to her chest in hopes that the beating heart might settle. “I should go.” 

The man released her quickly, lowering his hands to his side. She noted how he clenched his fists, then relaxed them after a moment. “I will walk you out.” He offered, and she found that she, well, she did not want to refuse him, so she nodded.

Edelgard let him lead the way, lowering her gaze as she made traversed around the other pairs slowly dancing around them, trying to disregard the fact that only a moment ago, she had been enchanted by the same spell.

It was a short walk to the door, and wordlessly, the man pulled it open for her, stepping out with her as she made her exit. It was most certainly much colder outside than it had been in the overheated, overfilled room. 

The young woman blew out a breath and wrapped her arms around herself, glancing at her companion, not sure what to say—nor whether to speak at all. But when she looked at him, she found herself rather…transfixed. He was not looking at her—his eyes focused on a distant point, his lips curled down, his brows slightly furrowed. Dimitri seemed rather pensive, thoughtful. 

It was quite frankly not an expression that she had the honor of witnessing often—he always smiled at her, always played to an extravagant act of kindness. She still did not truly believe that one could be so open—and that was why seeing him now, like this…it endeared him to her. 

Edelgard cleared her throat, and only then did his gaze snap to her—as though he had forgotten that she had been there at all. “Thank you.” She offered, gently biting her lip, wondering if that were sufficient as a farewell. 

The man nodded slowly, once again averting his gaze, raking his fingers through disheveled blond hair. “Right.” He sounded a bit detached. 

Well…if that was that, then she supposed there was no reason more to tarry. She had not wanted to come here to begin with, she reminded herself, forcing herself to turn away at last. 

Yet even before she could move one step, his voice drew her attention. “I am sorry.” There was a strain to his voice, his tone remorseful. “I am sorry if I did anything beyond my place. I had not meant to…” His voice dwindled, breaking into a tense silence.

The woman raised her eyes and inspected him again, wondering if he was truly intoxicated or just slightly buzzed—or if he had sobered already. Regardless, he had chosen to bring up the—whatever it had been. She could not call it a ‘kiss’, not really. Or maybe just did not want to. Because that would mean that she was susceptible to the same illness that took hold of other foolish youths. 

“There is no need to apologize.” Just as primly as she had been raised, she fell back into her façade. “Perhaps we both just indulged in a little too much liquor.” There. A viable justification. Now neither she, nor he, could be held accountable—now she could simply ascribe the strange emotions that had threatened to burst through her exterior to be the product of a bit of drink. 

Yet, as she watched his face, she saw that he did not seem content. No—there was no relief in his eyes as she might have expected, in fact he looked—dare she say, forlorn? Saddened? If he had not been seeking for her to find him an excuse, then what had he been expecting of her? 

In her heart, she knew—of course she knew. Yes, she did—but her reasonable, priority-driven mind chose to shove that knowledge aside and pretend as though she did not know.   
She had been pretending for so long, it was easier to regress to the charade. Easier to remain stuck in a comfortable, familiar, impersonal distance from everyone around her. It was safer. 

And he, she thought as she finally turned away and began to walk, he was dangerous.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can you believe I had to look up how Beer Pong was played?
> 
> So they kissed! There's some development for you starved souls (For myself really) But of course things aren't just that simple with these two, so nothing's really started yet. 
> 
> I've actually written the Post-Uni future ficlet featuring pirate Dimitri, but I don't want to post it just yet. Now I've just gotta think up some other scenarios that would be fun to write. What do people even do in College besides take exams and cry?


	6. A Brief Respite and a Growing Comfort

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Illness is simply another facet of a university student's hectic life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Someone actually screamed at me on tumblr for shipping Dimigard and I'm just laughing. So here's another chapter just to spite them. I fucking hate tumblr. I just like cool art.
> 
> Also I don't know where any of these pieces actually fit chronologically, so it's up to your imagination; I'm just writing moments I think are cute.

When she awoke with a clogged nose and an aching, scratchy throat, she knew very well that the day would not go well. 

The young woman turned over and glared at the alarm frantically going off, denoting her usual time to rise and begin her morning preparations. She swallowed, well as best she could, grimacing at the discomfort, and reached over, tapping her phone to silence the infernal noise. Heavens, did her head ache too? 

She groaned and pulled the blanket over her head, merely stewing in self-pity for a moment. When, how did she get sick? Why of all people did this cursed illness have to befall her? 

A meek voice, muffled through the cloth over her ears, earned her attention, and with a bitter sigh, the young woman pulled it down to glare at the one that had deigned to ruin her time of misery. A mousy, purple-haired girl stood by her bed, fiddling with her fingers. “Uh…Edelgard?” She squeaked, growing intensely crimson beneath her displeased gaze. “It’s, um, time to get up.” 

The girl seemed to be ready for her own classes, dressed, her bag over her shoulder. It was a wonder that even the girl had already finished her routine while she remained rooted in place. Edelgard relaxed her gaze and nodded lethargically, achingly pushing herself up, coughing—but that turned out to be a bad idea. As though a dam had been waiting to be set loose, a barrage of horrid, hacking coughs scraped through her throat. 

The girl hopped away, startled, her eyes widening. “Are you—ok?” Frightened, she eyed the woman, bent over, her fingers curled around her throat as though the pressure would stem the flow. “That sounded really bad, and uh—I’m sorry but you look awful!” 

Edelgard raised her eyes, pressing her lips together. She felt awful. “I know.” She croaked, horrified by the sound of her own voice. So it was true, Sothis really had abandoned her, or better yet, cursed her. 

The woman gingerly rubbed her throat, weighing the consequences of going to class in this state. If she did not, then she would be missing an entire lecture’s worth of material, and how could she abide by that? Making up lost time was a nightmare when it came to her courses. 

And yet…if she went like this, she would be completely vulnerable. Everyone would see her in her state of misery and weakness—and everyone would hear her coughing, regardless of where she sat. Besides, with her headache beginning to swell into a monstrous migraine, she did not think that she could pay enough attention to the professor, nor write precise notes.

With a heavy, pained sigh, her shoulders sagging in defeat, Edelgard decided to swallow her pride and just climb back beneath the still-warm covers. A pain though it might be, making things up was still an option. 

“Should I call Hubert?” The timid voice interjected again, and Edelgard tensed, throwing her head over her shoulder to narrow her eyes at the girl, standing now by the door.  
“No.” She growled. Telling him would worry him needlessly, and she knew the man well enough to predict that he would skip his own classes to tend to her health, not to mention his presence could be overbearing when she was sick. “Do not tell anyone.” She grumbled, sliding further under her blankets. It felt…well, nice. She supposed that sick day once in a while was not the absolute worst thing to occur.

Maybe this was Sothis’ way of telling her she needed to rest. What a thought that was. She scoffed bitterly and closed her eyes, the light dimming behind her eyelids as Bernadetta flicked them off. She heard the door click open, and then shut—and she knew that she was alone at last. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It felt that not even a moment later, someone intruded on the tentative peace. Loud shuffling alerted her to someone’s presence, the rustling of plastic bags. 

The woman’s eyes snapped open and she turned her head, searching for the source of the disruption. A yawn split her lips and she rubbed at her eyes, feeling little better than she had before. An hour or so of extra sleep did feel nice though. 

“Oh, morning Edie!” A chipper voice greeted her and she bit back a sigh when she realized just who had come inside. Dorothea, despite her wishes, had probably been told of her condition. The hazel-haired woman hummed as she bustled about, taking various items out of the bags she had brought, and Edelgard watched with wary curiosity, sitting up a little straighter. “Bernie was right, you really do look awful.” The songstress glanced at her and frowned, shaking her head. 

“Yes, well, I feel awful too.” She snapped, though her voice lacked the strength to muster any real venom. “Why are you here?” Her gaze slid to the side, noting the items the woman had spread over her desk. Various beverages, a few packs of cup soup, and a number of medicine bottles. 

Dorothea paused to give her a pointed look, her brow rising. “You have to ask? Come on, Edie, you’re obviously not leaving your room today, and I know you don’t like having Hubert called.” She held up a bottle of cough syrup, grinning. “So I decided that I would bring you some things instead.” 

It was decidedly generous of her to do so. Edelgard glumly nodded, knowing that it would be needlessly cruel to drive the woman away after the kindness shown her. “Thank you.” She managed to get out, her voice hoarse and quiet. 

The woman said nothing for a moment, tapping her chin. “I won’t be long; I know you don’t like people around when you’re sick.” There was a hint of amusement in her tone, and it seemed—for a moment, that a flash of mischief flickered through her eyes. “It’s too bad you missed your classes, huh?”

Still sore about that, Edelgard bit her tongue and looked away, her face pinching together in displeasure. “Yes, it is.” The woman bit out, then heaved a sigh, knowing it was futile to grow irritated by the woman’s usual teasing antics. She reached over and took the phone off the nearby nightstand, clicking it on and glancing at the time. Nearing noon. She could technically get up and now and make the other class she had that day. But, as another hacking fit of coughs tore through her throat, she decided quickly that following through with that idea was not advisable. Fine then, she would remain here, wallowing in this miserable state. What was she even supposed to do all day then? 

“Want something to eat? Drink?” Her friend moved to the bedside, looking down at her with concern glinting in her eyes. 

The woman managed a faint smile, shaking her head. “No.” Not wanting to risk irritating her sore throat any further, she chose to keep her verbal communication to a minimum. Regardless, she was a grown woman; she did not need to be taken care of like some sort of useless child. She would make herself some tea later, when she was once again left in solitude. 

Dorothea eyed her with some measure of distrust, but ultimately, nodded and picked up her bag. “Fine. Take it easy today though, Edie. You’re probably sick because you’ve been working yourself to oblivion. And don’t worry about missing class, I’ll make sure you get what you need.” The woman winked and hurried away before she could question what in Sothis’ name she had meant by that. 

Alas, the inquiry was left dancing on her tongue as the door clicked shut. Just as she had wanted, she had been left alone again, but this time with just a twinge of suspicion. That girl…

She scoffed quietly and achingly pushed herself out of bed, deciding that even if she was sick, it would do her no good to simply idle around in bed dressed so poorly. At the very least, a warm shower sounded appealing. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Now having washed off the night’s sweat—apparently she had even developed a fever of sorts, and having taken the medicine Dorothea had been merciful enough to bring, the woman finally sat down to eat—not the most nutritious meal, and certainly not the most quality, but food was food, and it was hot.

She braided her wet locks as she waited for the cup of soup to cool, thinking about how she would spend the rest of her day. When…was the last time that she had simply had time like this? She could not recall—every day there was some new obligation to fulfill, something to worry over. Maybe the songstress had been onto something when she had suggested an idle day. 

And yet it did not sit right with her either. She was simply not meant to sit around doing nothing; it was not in her character. 

The young woman frowned and coiled some noodles around her fork, wishing that she had a way of knowing what it was she had missed. Ah—and there was that cryptic promise that Dorothea had left her with. 

She checked her phone, wincing at the sudden influx of salt on her tongue. No new messages, contrary to what she had been expecting. The young woman set the device aside and instead reached for the box of tissues that her friend had left for her, suddenly grateful in earnest now that she realized she did not have any before. 

And it was just as she finished blowing her stuffy nose that two dull knocks sounded against her door. She paused, staring at the wooden structure tiredly, wondering who would have possibly come to visit now. How many people did Bernadetta tell? Honestly, a small cold and everyone acted as though it was the end of her time. 

She rolled her eyes and tossed away the used tissue, grumbling as she got up, padding over to answer the door. And she was quite ready to snap at whomever it was that had decided to express their sympathy—deeming that it was probably Caspar, if Bernie had been bold enough to tell anyone else. 

Having made that assumption, she was unheeding of her unfortunate state of dress, comfortable enough with the irritating young man, like a brother to her. 

But as she pulled open the door, the acerbic quip died on her lips and she faltered.

Because the one standing behind it was not a certain teal-haired, boyish looking man. No, not at all. It was one much taller than the admittedly short Caspar—and this one had blond hair. It was a man she had been least expecting to find at the threshold of her dorm room. And the young woman suddenly became dreadfully conscious of the unusually slovenly way she had dressed herself in preparation for a day of utter idleness. 

His name dropped in a timid stutter from her lips and she stepped back, vaguely aware of the warmth creeping up her ears. “What are you doing here?” She managed to ask hoarsely, forcing herself to remain composed.

The young man in reference had too been stunned by her appearance—so she gathered, if the pink tinting his cheeks was anything to go by. He kept his eyes pinned upon her face as he cleared his throat, shifting his satchel on his shoulder. “I had been told that you were ill.” The man answered, and to his credit, there was no sign of disturbance in his voice. “And I noticed that you had been absent so…”

She watched him shrug, feeling rather awkward herself. 

“I—brought you notes.” He seemed to remember suddenly, pulling open the flap of his satchel and rummaging through the various notebooks he had within it. And suddenly it became clear, what Dorothea had meant. 

“I see.” Edelgard inwardly cursed the woman, and yet found herself begrudgingly grateful yet again. She would not have thought of asking Dimitri for help—despite sharing quite a few classes with him. “You can—come in, if you would like.” She offered, somewhat stiffly, thinking that she would at least put on a sweater if he did accept. 

He paused midst his search, glancing up. “Oh, thank you.” He smiled at her—and as had become irritatingly common, she felt a flutter in her heart. 

Regardless, she stepped aside and permitted him entry, quickly glancing over the state of her shared room. Bernadetta had left a few things around, to her annoyance, but otherwise, it was not terrible. 

“There were a few things the professor covered today that might have been considered new material.” Her visitor began speaking, his back to her as he put down his satchel and looked for the notes properly. “If you would like, I could go over them with you. I find that it does help to hear, rather than simply reading.” 

She listened to him whilst putting on her hoodie, something she truthfully did not often wear. More often than not, Bernadetta borrowed it from her. Edelgard coughed, startling him with the ferocity of the sound. 

He looked back, concerned. “Is there anything you need?” There was a black notebook in his hands, partially flipped open. Why was this man so cursedly, or blessedly, thoughtful?  
“No, thank you.” She murmured through her ugly, croaky-voice. She was sure that most of her consonants sounded slurred. “I have it all.” She gestured to the assortment of goods that her friend had brought her before. 

Dimitri looked over them, frowning faintly. “You know, tea is good for a cold.” He offered, raising a brow at the barely-touched cup of soup on her desk. Yes, it was shameful.  
“I was going to make some later.” She stuffed her hands into her pockets and lumbered towards him, looking up through puffy, red eyes, hoping that her nose was not running. Briefly, she was frightened that he might catch her illness.

The young man nodded, then resumed flipping through the pages, humming when he stumbled upon them. “Oh, and I should have mentioned,” He said as he rested the open notebook on her desk, carefully pushing aside the various things she had left atop it. “There is a group presentation assignment.”

She groaned, not at all surprised to hear that she had missed something so vital. Everyone had already undoubtedly chosen their partners. Which, of course, she would be stuck with someone random.

“But, I hope you do not mind, I took the liberty as assigning you as my partner.”

Or…not. She blinked, surprised. “You did?” A sense of relief settled in her chest and she sighed, glad that at least that disaster had been averted. A hesitant smile curled her lips. “Thank you.” Those words had left her tongue more than she was accustomed to that day. Why was she so dependent on the aid of others? 

His own face brightened as he returned her smile, his blue eyes seeming to dance. “Right then, shall we?” He gestured to the waiting notes, and she nodded, looking around for an extra chair. A stool was the next best thing. 

Edelgard dragged it over to the desk and settled herself atop it, sliding her own notebook over—having been buried by the items Dorothea had brought. She plucked a pen from the holder and looked at him as a student would their teacher, eager to learn.

He seemed surprised by her enthusiasm, but quickly schooled his expression into one of focus. Clearing his throat, he began to lecture—and Edelgard quickly realized, just as in the library all that time ago, he made for an eloquent speaker and a proficient teacher. .

He went over everything she had missed, having quite a good handle of the material himself, and if she had an inquiry, answered it to the best of his ability—which was really quite impressive. She wondered if he acted as a peer tutor. 

She had grown so invested into his tutelage, it had grown almost easy to forget that she was in fact sick—and only when another barrage of throat-bruising coughs forced their way out of her, did she remember, hurriedly turning away from him to avoid from spreading the sickness. 

“Should I leave?” 

Came the quiet inquiry, and she snapped her head to the side, peering at him in surprise. “Why?” 

“Well, perhaps you want to be left in peace. If I am bothering, or disturbing you while you are—,” He frowned, genuine worry tinting his azure eyes, and she felt a tightening in her chest. 

Edelgard quickly shook her head, surprised at her own willingness to keep him here. “Not at all. Your presence is sooth—beneficial.” She corrected herself quickly, mortified by what she had nearly admitted. “I appreciate your help.” The young woman added in a hurry, in hope of dispelling any suspicion. Because she had sent Dorothea away, demanding that she wished to be alone. And now…

Whether or not he had caught her slip, he did not react. But he did smile anyway, not surprising in the least. “Very well. Shall we discuss the topic of our presentation?”

Edelgard could not resist the swelling urge to smile in return. His good humor was contagious, as was the joy in his eyes. She bit her lip and nodded, stifling the desire to laugh at his puppy-like expression. He almost looked like a love-struck teenage boy, and it was very much amusing to see of him. 

“Yes.” She agreed, the tension completely drained from her body, the prior awkwardness having melted away. “Why not.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Screams into the void because I have a physics exam tomorrow and I loathe physics with every fiber of my being; I am a chemistry major why do I need to know how a ball falls of a cliff
> 
> Wonder what I'll write next...tbh I'm feeling an in-universe fic next so that'll probably be a separate work. Ya'll want Dimigard kids? Because that's what ya gonna get!
> 
> Til next time folks, however long it takes me to brainstorm what normal people actually do in university.


	7. Proximity - Diminishing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Close.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you are uncomfortable regarding content of a sexual nature, I advise against continuing to read. It is not graphic, but it is there.

The longer the movie dragged on, the lower her eyelids drooped.

Edelgard had always thought of herself as a patient woman—capable of waiting out even the most tedious, or conversely, dull circumstance. She had always been able to remain awake and alert when she had been forced into watching a movie with the Eagle House girls—whatever sappy dramas they liked to cry at. Yes, all those times, staying awake had not been a problem, even if she had been bored to the point of tears. 

So why was it that she was facing this dilemma now? 

She stifled a yawn and resisted the urge to rub at her eyes. The movie playing was admittedly an interesting one—it had caught her attention when her boyfriend had insisted that they give it a try. She had agreed to watch it, and had intended to watch it intently. 

Now, however…

Well, her resolve was rapidly waning. The warmth and comfort lulling her into slumber did absolutely nothing to aid her issue. 

Half-sprawled across Dimitri’s body, her head resting in the nook between his shoulder and neck, his arm curled loosely around her waist…these factors only added to the want of sleep. But he had been excited to watch the film, and she did not want to disappoint him by having fallen asleep and missed the majority of the plot points. He would undoubtedly want to discuss it afterwards, as she had discovered was common for him to do.

And she honestly enjoyed the post-film discourse. Which was why it was imperative for her to remain conscious. 

But the laptop screen was so small, and the warmth was so inviting.

The young woman was fighting a losing battle. 

So when she was suddenly gently jostled, she bolted upright, startled. Because she had in fact fallen asleep—for a moment. 

“El?”

His voice seemed to float somewhere around her ear and she blinked the sleep from her eyes, covering her mouth with a hand when yet another yawn threatened to split her lips apart. 

“Do you want to stop for the night?” He asked, and she forced herself to turn her head and meet his eyes. She could make out the slight upturn of his lips from the light reflected off of the computer screen. “We could always finish this one some other time.” He had already paused the film; he did hate missing anything. 

She shook her head lethargically, her pride somewhat bruised—and she wanted to restore it. “No. I apologize I simply…” It was not that she was that tired. But how could she say that it was his fault? He was so damn comfortable that it flicked on the instinctive switch that meant it was time to sleep. In lieu of giving the true cause of her stumble into slumber, the woman cleared her throat and gingerly pulled away. “Excuse me for a moment.” 

She almost regretted having chosen the side by the wall. It meant she had to climb over him to leave the bed. He graciously moved out of the way though, getting up himself and stretching. She stopped herself from observing the way his shirt rode up his body when he raised his arms and quickly made her way to the bathroom.

The woman shut the door behind herself and leaned against the sink, setting her hands on either side of it, peering into the mirror. Her cheeks were flushed, her hair a bit disheveled. It really was too warm. 

Edelgard released a breath and promptly pulled off the sweater she had been wearing—not even one of her own. It belonged to the man with whom she had just been cuddling and, she realized as she hesitantly brought the material to her nose, it smelled like him. Like his cologne, she thought in a hurry—as though to push aside any other indecent thoughts that seemed to simply pervade her mind of late. 

She guiltily set the garment aside and turned on the tap, splashing some cold water over her cheeks to cool them down. Really—when had this…base desire begun to overtake her rational sensibilities? Why had she become so acutely conscious of him—of the way he made her feel—physically?

Had she already become so comfortable with him that these prior latent observations had floated to the forefront of her consciousness? And…was it wrong? 

The young woman bit her lip and stared at her reflection, noting the dip in her brows, the downturn of her lips. Alright, so she found her boyfriend to be good-looking. Well, a little more than that. Everyone deemed the so called ‘king of lions’ to be attractive—and that included the majority of her own house. Dorothea was especially vocal when it came to pointing out the finer aspects of his physique, to her irritation and admittedly her pride both. 

And speaking of Dorothea…the woman had been a little more suggestive recently—goading her into detailing the physical side of their relationship—of which there was little to speak. This, in turn, disappointed her nosy friend, and thus prompted the beginnings of the encouragement to, the woman’s words ‘get laid’. 

Was this Dorothea’s fault then? Her sudden awareness of both him and her reactions? 

She glared at herself, feeling rather mortified by her own thoughts, guilty for thinking of such things, and an almost perverse sense of excitement for thinking of such ‘illicit’ matters. What would Dimitri think?

Yes…what would he think if he knew that she thought of him in a less than innocent way? What would he think if he knew of the thoughts that skittered across her mind when he touched her—be it a simple embrace, the brush of his thumb against her cheek—that she wanted to feel him…more. 

Her cheeks grew warm again.

There was a quiet knock against the door. “Are you alright?”

Oh—she was taking quite a while—and making no noise whatsoever. It made sense that he would grow concerned. She collected herself, straightening out her attire and smoothing out her hair. “Yes.” 

Edelgard grabbed his sweater and turned to open the door, offering the garment to the man behind it. “Sorry.” Wondering if perhaps he had needed to use the bathroom whilst she had selfishly hogged it during her period of rumination. 

Either way, her little trip had worked—she no longer felt like dropping into a coma. 

He folded the sweater and tucked it into a drawer neatly, seeming to stifle a yawn himself. She leaned against the dressed, crossing her arms. He glanced at her and smiled, looking a bit tired. “Do you want to go get something to eat?” 

She raised her brows incredulously. “Are you hungry?” The young woman slipped her phone out and glanced at the time; almost nine. She normally considered it too late to eat. Not to mention go outside. His sheepish smile was all the answer she needed. Edelgard swallowed a snicker and cleared her throat, brushing past him to retrieve her purse. “Where do you have in mind?”

“Ah, nowhere in particular.” Dimitri paused to grab his wallet, stuffing it into his back pocket as he strode to her side, reaching over to turn off the lights as they left. “What do you think about takeout?” He asked, waving to someone across the hall—a young man that looked more like a high schooler than a college student with shaggy gray hair.   
She hummed, not particularly caring herself. “Sounds fine.” She did not want to eat, nor was she very hungry. “Is your roommate coming back tonight?” Edelgard had been meaning to inquire—Felix had been absent the entire evening, for which she had been grateful. 

The man glanced down and shook his head, raking his fingers through his blond locks. “No.” So that left them his room for as long as they needed it. She had not stayed the night yet, or even brought it up, but here it was—the perfect opportunity presenting itself. If Dorothea found out about this, she would probably kill her for not taking it. “Do you want to—,”

“Would you mind if I—,”

They had both spoken at once. 

She looked up at him, biting her lip to stifle the budding smile—and he looked down, seemingly to be equally amused. Dimitri nodded at her, allowing her to speak first, it appeared.

The woman chewed on her thoughts a little more, heaving a breath. “I…was going to ask if…well, if I could stay the night.” Because if she did not then, then he would insist on walking her back to her dorm, which meant he would be walking back to his alone—that seemed like too much of an inconvenience. 

He looked surprised, but a broad smile spread across his face and he laughed. “I was going to ask if you wanted to.” It never failed to warm her heart—that beautiful smile, that melodious laugh. Goodness—how sentimental she had become! 

“I hope you do not snore.” She teased, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “Or I will push you off the bed.” 

She had been expecting him to laugh, or tease her back, but to her surprise, the man walking at her side grew quiet. The smile faded and he seemed pensive, his brows furrowing slightly. Edelgard wondered if she had unintentionally offended him, her own grin faltering.

“Dimitri?” The woman called out hesitantly, hoping that she had not, in fact, somehow affronted him. She had assumed the jest to be innocuous, not too biting.

The man blinked, as though startled from a stupor, and turned his head to her. “Oh—pardon me.” He cleared his throat and looked up, peering at the starless sky—misted over by the heavy clouds—and released a breath. “Sharing a bed…I have never done that before” Was he discomfited by the thought? 

She had been coerced into doing so before when the girls had decided to have a party of sorts. She had suffered beside Petra—someone that was not a quiet sleeper. Regardless, the idea did not daunt her as much. Not that part at least. Sleeping was the least of her concerns. “I do not bite.” Edelgard remarked, hoping to lighten the mood some—and ease his trepidation. 

The blond chuckled, and as she had hoped, the hesitation left his countenance. “I suppose that should be a relief.” Dimitri looked at her with the eyes she had come to know so well—bearing such tender affection that sometimes she felt frightened, fearful of allowing someone to care for her. Caring for someone else.

The woman permitted her lips to quirk upward and adjusted the grip on her purse. There was still something gnawing at the back of her mind, twisting at her heart. It was difficult to ignore. Difficult to push aside. The same issue that had plagued her mind as she had stared at the reflection in the mirror.

“El?” 

She looked up, finding the man peering at her expectantly. Her gaze slid down and to the outstretched hand, waiting. A quiet huff of amusement tumbled from her lips and she raised her hand, slipping into his own. He squeezed it gently, smiling, and she smiled back.

~~~~~~~~~~

They were laughing together as they returned to his dorm—something silly that one of them had mentioned regarding their classmate’s antics. Claude was always up to something or other, and it was usually quite entertaining.

“That fool does not know when to quit.” She mock-grumbled, helping him push aside some objects atop his desk. “I have no doubt all his deeds will catch up to him.”  
Dimitri mustered a quiet laugh, shaking his head as he set his food atop the cleared surface. “Well, perhaps.” He began to unpack the food and looked at her. “Do you want any?” Came the offer she had come to expect whenever he had food and she did not.

Edelgard smiled and shook her head. “No, go ahead.” Instead, she returned to his bed, flopping atop the soft surface and pulling out her phone. She curled her legs together and rested her head on her fist, checking her email. She could see him begin to eat out of the corner of her eye, and once again, found herself watching.

Did she…well, she must, apparently if she observed him so intently. If such salacious thoughts pervaded her head. Because even the most innocuous action turned into something much less decent in her mind. 

Edelgard shut her eyes and took a breath, forcing herself to think of something else. But there was only one query persisting in her skull—bouncing back and forth. Did he…did he think of her like this too? Or was she alone in perversely fantasizing about them? Did Dimitri take notice of her as she did of him? Did he ever wish that their kisses would grow into something more as she had begun to do? 

The questions swelled and swelled and threaten to burst free. But she swallowed the words. They could wait. Until he had finished eating, at the very least.

The woman stared at her phone a moment longer—to at least pretend that she had been occupied by something other than the request forming in her mind. She licked her lips to wet them, both exhilarated and unexpectedly timid. 

This was…this was something she wanted. She hoped he wanted it too. She wondered how he would react—whether he would blush fiercely and stammer at the very notion, or if he would take it in stride and give her a direct answer, indifferent. 

She glanced up, surprised to see that he was already cleaning up. Well, she supposed that she should no longer have been surprised—he could eat quickly—and anything, she had realized. She often gave him the parts of her meals that she did not like, and he ate them without complaint. So far, she had not found a single food that he did not like. But that was beside the point.

Edelgard sat up, swinging her legs over the side of the bed, following him with her eyes as he gathered his trash, seemingly focused on the task. Her gaze slid to the purse she had left atop the desk, wondering if she would come to have need of…the gift that she had been given upon departing her dorm earlier. 

Dimitri rolled his neck and yawned as he turned to face her. “Do you want to finish it?” He gestured to the laptop resting where they had left it, and there was no indication on his face of impending offense should she answer negatively. 

So the woman took a breath and shook her head. “Not tonight.” She cleared her throat, pausing to gather her sensibilities. Calm. Rational. There was hardly anything to be so worked up over—they were both adults, and they could handle mature subjects—they were old enough to engage in— “Do you want to have sex?”

Well.

She had meant to ask with a little more grace than that. 

Despite the fluttering of her heart, the nervousness that suddenly took hold of her body and jittered through her hands, she kept herself outwardly composed. Perhaps a more direct approach was the preferable one in this case anyway. That is what she tried to tell herself, regardless. 

But the man had said nothing—and looked almost comically like a deer caught in headlights. His eyes were wide, his brows raised, his lips parted in an astonished gape. She was suddenly immensely intrigued by how the usually cool man would approach a topic such as this one. 

Physical intimacy was not one that they typically brought to word. He had asked her if he could kiss her, and she had told him that he could—and that had been the extent of it thus far. 

“Are you asking if I am interested in engaging in general, or requesting that we do so now?” To his credit, his voice did not waver despite the crimson that had begun to creep across his cheeks. In fact, aside from that blush, his countenance could only be described as, well, grim. 

She pressed her lips together, wondering how she should answer the query. Humming, she tapped her cheek. “Both, I think.” Though the latter more so, presently. 

The man crossed his arms and frowned, seeming to be caught in a rumination of his own. “Well I think it should not surprise you that I am not at all opposed.” Actually, it sort of did. She had been half-expecting an outright rejection; he had struck her as somewhat of an idealistic, naïve man—not really one to partake in what one might call ‘delinquent activities’. But she supposed that had already been disproven. He had been drinking the first time they had kissed. 

“However, I do not have any sort of protection.” The man stuffed his hands into his pockets and looked away, and only then did he look endearingly sheepish. 

She chuckled and pushed herself up, crossing the distance. The woman planted herself in front of him and deliberately stretched across him to retrieve her bag, brushing against him. “I do.” Edelgard commented nonchalantly, pulling free a square of plastic, glancing up to catch the upward flick of his brows. “Dorothea gave them to me.” She sighed, holding the silver square between her fingers.

And she paused, wondering briefly how the woman had known…or why the woman simply had them in stock. Well, regardless, she supposed that they might come into use after all. 

Dimitri hesitantly raised his hand, his eyes pinned upon the plastic, and gingerly took it from her. She observed him as he examined the object, flipping it back and forth as though it was something foreign, stifling the urge to smirk. At last, he lowered the square and raised his hand to his face, rubbing it—and she heard him sigh. “Are you sure?”  
“I am—but you sound less so.” She curled her fingers around his wrist and pulled his hand from his face, frowning at him. “Do you not want to? If so—then we do not have to.” He had been perplexed by the idea of sharing a bed and here she was prompting him to bed her. Edelgard softened her expression and tenderly rubbed his skin. “Am I pushing you too quickly?” 

The man huffed a laugh and the tension ebbed away. “No—not at all. You merely surprised me.” Dimitri pulled free of her grip and took her hands in his, pulling her closer. His eyes grew gentle and he smiled softly, his hair falling across his face as he bent his head lower. She allowed her lover to kiss her, the worries having fled her mind.   
His lips brushed against her own carefully—and he moved them upward, pecking the tip of her nose. “If you are certain, then…” 

“I am.” She repeated, tugging her hands free and resting them against his chest, craning her neck to meet his eyes. “Now then, after you.” Edelgard allowed a smirk to curl her lips and pulled teasingly at the cloth of his shirt, slipping away briskly before he could say a word.

She raised her chin and narrowed her eyes at him, lifting a brow. The man mirrored her expression, as though challenging her command—or pondering whether to obey. After a moment, he scoffed and set aside the condom, and he hooked his finger beneath the hem of his shirt. “I suppose I should not be surprised that you have so readily taken the lead.” He did not sound too displeased.

Whatever remark she was preparing to respond with faltered on her tongue. Of course she had seen his chest before—and of course she had known that he had an impressive physique—but context, she supposed, did make quite the difference. She could only swallow her snippy reply and stare as he tossed aside the garment.  
“Should I turn on some music?” Whether or not he was serious, she did not know, nor really care. There was the hint of a smirk tugging on his lips and he crossed his arms.   
Edelgard found her tongue and scoffed, raising her eyes. “Please—this is not some romance film. Silence can be just as sensual.” She quipped, forcing herself to be as indifferent as he had been as she removed her own blouse. A little harder to do. She bit her tongue and averted her eyes as he looked at her.

To distract herself, she folded her shirt and set it neatly on the bed. “Your turn.” The woman tossed her hair over her shoulder and slid her gaze upward. 

“I was not expecting blue.” Came the response. Dimitri did not make a movement to do as she had bid him, and instead resumed his inspection of her brassiere—in fact a vibrant royal azure. “But regardless, this is just like you El.”

She raised a brow and fingered the strap of her bra. “What is?” 

The man chuckled lamely and shook his head, allowing it to hang for a moment. Then he pushed away from the desk and began to stride towards her. “This. You treat this as though it is some sort of chore to simply get through. Very impersonal and…scripted.”

Before she could retort, he took her hand and pulled her up. She swallowed her astonishment as he pulled up his phone and clicked through a few screens before tossing it gently atop the nightstand. A moment following, the sound of classical music drifted lazily from the device, taking the place of the quiet. 

He took her hand and rested it atop his shoulder, extending their other entwined hands outward. As he placed his palm over her bare waist—at which she jolted slightly—she realized that he had posed them to dance. 

She blinked, looking at him incredulously, watching his lips spread into a mischievous grin. “What are you doing?” Edelgard asked through a laugh, rather baffled as he pushed her into a spin, raising their hands over her head. “This is ridiculous!” Waltzing topless in a dormitory room. She could only imagine trying to explain the situation to anyone that might mistakenly witness it.

The man pulled her back in time to the music and grinned, swaying back and forth. “That is the point. But, you are smiling.” He raised a brow, sliding his palm up to the small of her back. With more boldness than she had presumed of him to have, the man toyed with the strap of her brassiere. He lowered his head and spoke into her ear. “El, just…relax.” He released a breath and she felt it shudder over her skin. “Do you trust me?”

She lowered her eyes, peering over his shoulder. After a brief period of rumination, she nodded, releasing the breath she had been holding. The woman closed her eyes and allowed herself to rest her head against his shoulder. “Of course I do.” She murmured, her heart pattering in her chest.

“Allow yourself to feel, El.” She heard him say quietly, and the words struck her heart. He led her to the beat of the sweet strings swelling and fading, and she found herself amazed. 

Amazed by her own instinct to just…repress herself. He was absolutely right. This was supposed to be intimate, memorably—and she really was treating it so mechanically. She did want to feel. She wanted to feel. So what if this was silly? Would it not be all the better if she could recall this memory and laugh—smile? 

And she envied him. She envied him his ability to simply let go and feel—not to overthink every little thing.

“Can you…help me?” Edelgard whispered, her chest tight. 

The man chuckled, and she felt his chest rumble. He pressed his lips to the side of her head and she heard him murmur his assent. 

She nuzzled him and took a breath. He was warm. “How much longer do you plan to do this?”

Dimitri laughed and gently pushed her back, lowering their arms. He led her to the bed, prodding her on until she felt the frame pressing into the back of her knees. She allowed him to push her back, catching herself on her arms, watching as the man kneeled before her. 

Edelgard allowed herself a moment of proud satisfaction at the sight. It did make for a beautiful image, she could admit. He was still tall, even on his knees, his blue eyes filled with the light of adoration, golden hair fallen across his eyes. 

She extended a hand, sweeping her fingers across his forehead to push aside the blond strands. His palms glided up her thighs as he leaned in, and she met him halfway. Feel. Just feel. Her eyes fluttered shut and she forgot the world.

Edelgard hummed against him, allowing him to undo the buttons of her slacks, kicking off her heels while he did so. His lips skimmed her cheek, ghosted along her jaw and he slowly pulled the garment free. 

And she found that it was not so difficult to become lost in the sensations. It was easy to become entranced as he peppered light kisses down her neck, as his palms roamed her bare skin—heated, callused. She breathed his name and dragged her hand down his back. She wanted him closer. Closer.

She felt his fingers skim the expanse of her back, felt him unclasp the clip of her brassiere—and her breath hitched. Exposed. Vulnerable. He pressed his lips to her collar and she sighed as he dragged the silken garment off her arms. 

The woman held her breath as he cupped her, palming the weighted flesh, thumbing the swelling peaks. He whispered his praise against her lips and gently laid her back. And she watched him as he moved away, retrieving that which he had left behind afore.

Her eyes followed his every motion, fluid, precise, as he bared himself before her. There was no hesitation as she might have expected. There was no timidity in his gaze as he returned to her, climbing atop the bed.

He kissed away her apprehension and pressed his reverence to her skin, whispered promises of such kindness. She carded her fingers through his hair and let him do as he pleased. She did not care to notice the final barrier between them removed, did not care to watch him slip on the scrap of film. She cared only to watch his face.   
Edelgard cupped his chin and met his gaze with half-lidded eyes. She smiled, and he did the same. Dimitri leaned down and his lips brushed against her own—and she felt him. A groan tumbled from her tongue and she tensed, briefly. 

He was careful, gentle, but that did not lessen the discomfort of this first invasion. He rocked against her and swallowed her groans and she tangled her fingers in his hair. There was little to do but bear it, listen to the melody of her lover’s pleasure. His quiet sighs, the gentle moans he fed her in encouragement. 

Discomfort ebbed away. Yet no astronomical climax shook her core, nor passionate desire grip her very heart. There was simply…peace. She was united with him, her lover, in a kindled intimacy that surpassed all else. How much closer could they draw to one another? What more did she need than to feel the quiet, gentle motions, the warmth of his body, the whispers of his breaths? 

She held him, and he held her, his fingers tangling in the length of her hair, spread behind her. His motion stuttered and his breath caught and she felt him go still. His chest rose and fell in a weighted rhythm and his head fell against her chest. She felt the warmth of his breaths puff against her skin. 

A sudden chill swept over her, cooling the sweat on her body and she shivered, curling closer together. She pushed at his chest, murmuring his name. The man stirred, pushing himself up, and he paused above her, his eyes peering into hers—azure orbs. He mustered a lazy smile and pressed a kiss to her forehead. 

The music—it had been on. She turned her head and narrowed her eyes at the device. “Can you turn that off?” The woman grumbled, cold—shuddering when he slipped from her and sat up, and she watched as he reached over to take the phone, pressing it off. 

“Sorry.” He offered with a faint chuckle, replacing the device and raising a hand to card through his tousled hair. The blond rose and padded away, affording her an eyeful of his backside, which she could not say she did not appreciate. 

She waited until he vanished from her sight to slip under the covers and burrow in, sighing as she rested her head against the pillow. It smelled like him. Well, she could not very well be ashamed of admitting that she liked that anymore. 

“Are you alright?” His voice seemed to drift in and she raised her eyes, watching as he ambled back in, a pair of sweats unfortunately obscuring his lower half. 

Edelgard hummed, nodding lethargically, decidedly tired now. She closed her eyes and leaned into his touch as he gently ran his fingers down her cheek, brushing aside the white strands of her hair. She heard his steps retreat, saw the light dim behind her eyelids, and a moment later, felt the bed dip beside her. 

“Do you want something to wear?” He offered quietly, stroking her hair in the dark. She could not bring herself to care about her state of undress presently. The woman murmured her dissent and coiled closer to him, glad when his arms finally descended around he  
r.   
She heard him sigh and breathe a ‘good night’, and she simply hummed in response. 

He woke as he always did.

Stiff. Tense. A cold sweat lathering seemingly every inch of his form. His heart stampeding in the confines of his chest. 

He beheld nothing but darkness—there was no light to see by. But he still saw his dreams dancing behind his eyes. Nightmares. Memories. 

The young man released a long breath and raised an arm to his face.  
How he wished they would stop. 

How he wished he could simply sleep.

Just sleep. 

He just wanted to sleep.

He just. Wanted. To Sleep.

A mania began to swell in his chest, and he choked it back down, stifling the darkness seeping out of his soul. 

Something stirred beside him and he startled, stiffening again before he recalled that he had not fallen asleep alone. He gingerly swept a hand over her face, the tension in his chest relaxing. It was easier to breathe. At the very least, he was not alone tonight. And if they came again, then he could hold her hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Opens mouth and just 'aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa's into the void.
> 
> Sex is just so hard to write; I think I've only written like two scenes (both of which are part of my original works) that I was semi proud of. I can't tell yet if I want to add this to that list...but yeah, here we are. 
> 
> I wasn't originally planning on dropping this so soon, but hey, when ya brain screams at you, you gotta listen? Or something. But due to the nature of the ending I dragged in there, I might just upload the post-uni fic next because I crave a darker feeling. 
> 
> So yeet, as always leave a comment, let me know how I did--was this too corny? (Yes?) Should I ever attempt to write physical intimacy again? Or whatever, is there a specific scene that you want me to write? I am always open to suggestions! (And critique!)


	8. Fallen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Descent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains Implicit Violence.

They had stopped crying out. Long ago. He did not know how long ago.

The only sound now was that of his own breath, deep and ragged. The panting of a rabid beast thirsting for blood. 

His fists stung. His hair remained plastered to his face; golden streams smeared with dark ribbons. Pale skin was dappled with scarlet, as though someone had dropped a bucket of red paint and a smattering had found purchase across his face. 

His hands shook as he finally straightened, heaving a deep, weighted breath. His tongue flicked out and swept across his lips, dry and chapped. The tang of iron spread across his mouth and he swallowed. 

The one, barely living light above him flickered, humming faintly through its strain. 

The man’s gaze slid lower, falling lamely to the limp mound of flesh and bone that moved no more. If not for the rope, it would have slid to the ground in a crumpled heap.  
He swept an arm across his face, smearing the scarlet further, then slid his hand to his collar, fixing it. As though it would make him seem a man again. As though sliding the garment back into place would distract from the stains splashing his sleeves; everything else. 

His hands felt slick. Warm. Sticky. A feeling that he had become well familiar with. The metallic fragrance that may as well have become his cologne.  
His eye remained fixed upon the unmoving heap as though he expected it to begin jittering again. But no mumbles tumbled out of the crushed lips any longer. No more jerky, startled motions as had happened before. Before, when his fists had impacted the soft flesh. Over. And over. And over. 

It seemed that the sound remained lodged in his skull—thick, dull. Systematic. 

It was almost euphoric, in some ways; there was a twisted ecstasy in beating a man to death with just his fists. The pain that jolted down his own arms with the ferocity of each blow—the numbness that overcame his knuckles after some time spent at the chore.

And there was a devilish satisfaction in watching the human face come apart. 

In watching flesh split and tear. In watching bone crumble under the immense weight of his strength. 

There was a sickening beauty to the blood that poured to the floor; that splattered every which way, painting everything with its splendor.  
The floor and walls in this dim, forgotten room were splashed with it. 

The loud clang of an opening door forced his attention aside. The man just barely turned his head, his remaining eye following a figure through the corner. Another followed shortly after—the thudding steps too loud in the deafening silence. 

A disapproving huff sounded—like a gunshot. 

A weight fell over his shoulders and he sighed, achingly beginning to unfurl the sleeves he had rolled up earlier. 

“I thought the point was to interrogate them.” 

Dimitri scoffed, his lips curling up faintly. “And they refused to speak.” 

“What should we do with it?” A calm voice inquired—a foil to his barely leashed madness. 

He laughed, an ugly, cold sound lacking of warmth or humor. “Send it back.” See how they liked his little gift, if they could even recognize who it had been. The thing in the chair hardly seemed to resemble a human—well, perhaps the shape was humanoid. But the face, he thought with a dark chuckle—what face? It was a mushed pulp of torn flesh and blood, bits of crushed bone peeking out through the red mash. 

Dimitri raised a hand—coated in a sheen of crimson, and combed it through the tangled curtain of gold. The blood had dried. 

“Well, your majesty?” A scornful voice drew his gaze. Felix crossed his arms, unperturbed by the frigid stare directed at him. “Satisfied your murderous urges for the day? Or does the beast king desire more prey to quell his hunger?”

He said nothing in return, accustomed to the acerbic quips, accustomed to the disappointed, venomous stare. Dimitri watched Dedue untie the ropes around the corpse, pulling his arms through the sleeves of the coat he had brought him, adjusting the bottom of his vest. “Do you have something to report?” Sometimes he could not recognize his own voice—how hoarse and grizzled it had become, cruel and wintry, void of feeling. 

“Why else would I suffer your presence?” The man spat, waiting for him by the opened door. “We tracked down another one of their transports and their route.” Felix watched him with narrowed eyes as he approached, disgust curling his lip as he caught sight of the bloody flecks spattering his clothing. “For fucks sake, clean yourself up.”  
It was far too late for that. Dimitri disregarded the man as he swept past him, lumbering like a hulking beast through the dimly lit corridor. No amount of water could wash away the blood staining his hands. 

Without a word, he left the man behind, turning into the barely functional elevator. The last he saw before the doors closed was Felix’s face, drawn tight with disdain. Let him seethe. Let them all look at him, see what he had become. Hah, the pity in their eyes meant nothing. 

He slammed his fist against the button, leaning heavily against the wall as the machine began to shudder into operation, heaving upward with an ugly, shrill sound. The stench of mold and damp pervaded his nose, almost strong enough to block out the smell of blood—almost. 

The man staggered as though drunk when the doors opened, lurching through and into the room—almost too bright. His lip curled in revulsion, his eye narrowing at the sudden surge of brightness. 

He stepped into the bleak, barely furnished room, swiping a pack of cigarettes off a metal desk as he passed it, striding towards the glass wall. It overlooked a city in the distance, grey; foreboding. A city in which he had been declared deceased. A city in which he had been raised; a city in which he was now a wanted man. A bitter scoff tumbled from his lips as he stuck a cigarette between them. 

He rested one hand against the pane, his eye dull as he peered distractedly into the distant city, the room dark behind him—nothing but the desk and a mattress upon which he rarely found rest. The man pulled a lighter from his pocket and flicked the serrated disk back, raising the jittering flame to the cigarette.  
For a moment, it was the only spark of color in the monochrome. And then it was gone.

He tossed the pack back where it had been and stuffed the lighter back into its place, taking a long drag. A stream of smoke curled from between his teeth as he puffed, leaning his forehead against the cool glass. 

There were memories, somewhere, in the deep recesses of his mind. Memories of other times, better times. 

He let the cigarette dangle between his fingers, listlessly surveying the doleful scene before him. 

He remembered when people had spoken nothing but lauds of him—had declared his future to be oh so bright. And oh, how he could laugh at that now. Bright? What a fucking joke. His life had become a ruin and his dreams had turned to nightmares. He was wading through a churning river of darkness. Light had long since deserted his life  
Dimitri pushed away from the pane and took another drag, ambling to the mattress, glancing at the state of his living quarters. It was a coffin. It contained nothing but a dead man. 

A limp pillow and a thin blanket were all he had to call comforts. 

And he had ruined yet another shirt. Rolling up the sleeves had done little to protect the white cloth. 

Another dry scoff tumbled from his lips and he fell back, hitting the stiff mattress noiselessly. Ash drifted to the ground, smearing the mottled carpet with grey.  
The man crossed his legs and groped the mattress for the device that he had left laying on it earlier, curling his fingers around a small, sleek object. Silently, he raised it, his eye scanning the cracked screen, black—his own face reflected through the shattered glass. A click, the screen flickered to life.

A bright smile greeted him. His own. And.

Hers.  
His heart seemed to clench uncontrollably at the sight. His hand shook as he brought the smoke to his lips again, staring at the image displayed through the broken screen. He slowly dragged his thumb over her face, engraving it into his mind again. 

There was just a faint upward curve to her lips as she peered disapprovingly into the camera. She had been unwilling to take the picture to begin with, but ultimately conceded for his sake. Her eyes lavender, her hair a silvery-white. 

He wondered briefly what she might say if she saw him now. Would her pretty lips curve with that familiar displeasure? Would her brows crease with concern? Would she even know him anymore? No. He hardly knew himself, after all. 

She had told him, so long ago now, that their paths were set to diverge, that they would not cross again. How utterly true that had been. Had she known, perhaps, that his life had been on the verge of collapse? Had she known what a monstrous savage he would have become? Perhaps she had seen the darkness lingering, swelling, groaning inside him. 

“Edelgard.”

He rasped, trying her name on his tongue. 

His voice sounded harsh, too cruel to give life to such a sweet word. 

The device vibrated in his hand and a notification blocked her from his sight. He shut his eye briefly, pushing the woman of his past from his mind.  
An address and nothing more. 

He took one last drag and smothered the half-burnt stick, pressing it forcefully against the ground. The man shut off the device and forced himself up, straightening his clothes by instinct—a habit he had kept throughout the years—as though he were making himself presentable. Laughable. 

Dimitri stalked to the desk, retrieving the knife that had been waiting there. As though by clockwork, he dragged a finger down the rim, assessing. 

Good enough. Sharp enough to pierce flesh. Sharp enough to burst through the rib cage. Strong enough to crack the sternum. 

He paused long enough to tie a strip of black cloth around his head, tucking it over the empty socket. 

Without wasting another moment, the hound departed to begin his hunt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm writing the follow up to this particular ficlet right now, and I have to say I'm seriously invested, which is silly because I'm the writer--but hey, I'm going to take that as a good sign and hope that you guys will enjoy it as much as I am. (It's also getting a lot longer than I was expecting, but that's fine).
> 
> Also, I guess this doesn't count as the 'university setting' anymore, but it's post uni, and its in the same world. I'll just call it 'close enough' and put it in with this collection anyway. Regardless, you can't stop me! I love angst and edgy dark shit, so I just had to. And I wrote this a few weeks ago so it's just been sitting in my folder. 
> 
> Think the next ficlet will be back in uni days, so a little more fluff before the catastrophe hits.


	9. Alas, the Dawning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Realizations, Confrontations.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll just yeet this one at ya'll while I continue to work on their fucked up, angsty future

How was it that one simple inquiry, asked so innocuously, could have so suddenly heaved apart the illusory world that she had constructed for herself. Could have shaken the foundations of her intrinsic beliefs down to the very core. 

Splintered the wall around her heart through the middle.

Why—and how?

It was barely a perturbing question, to anyone else. One, simple, rather ordinary question. It was not spectacular, hardly deeply philosophical—again, to anyone else.  
But, it was not just ‘anyone else’; it was Edelgard Von Hresvelg, and to her, it was all those things. It was precisely so jarring—because she had never anticipated, had never even dreamed of the possibility of this particular query to be posed to her.

And she had to wonder if it really was so apparent to everyone else. Of late, she had been getting numerous—and she had thought at the time—unrelated inquiries.  
You spend quite a bit of time with that blond man.

Hubert had commented once when she had prepared to go meet with Dimitri for yet another study session. And well, of course she did—they had knowledge to offer the other; it was a mutually beneficial affair.

You went to see the soccer game? I thought you didn’t like stuff like that.

Caspar had exclaimed upon having seen her leaving the stadium, apparently astounded by the sight. And why she have not? She had heard plenty of rumors surrounding the paragon of players—and she had simply wanted to see whether they held true. They had.

You are smiling many more times recently.

Petra had chirped during a rare meet-up, when both had finally found a space of time in which they could converse. And she had thought nothing of the question—everything was going well for her, was it so surprising that her spirits high? She had certainly not regarded her recent cheer to have anything at all to do with the young man she had been so frequently in contact with. 

So, truly, the inquiry had struck her speechless.

“Do you like him?”

Dorothea had been the one, unsurprisingly, to brave the query. She had asked with wide, curious eyes—after Edelgard had once again detailed something amusing that the man in reference had done.

It did not register at once, the implication behind the words. And so she had cocked her head and raised her brow. “What do you mean?” Her fingers stilled on the keyboard of her laptop, pausing the task she had been working to complete. 

The woman, once again sprawled on her bed, gave her an exasperated smile and twirled a strand of her hair about her finger. “Edie, really now. You talk about him so much it’s a wonder there’s still more to be said. And Hubie’s been looking at the poor guy as though he wants to murder him.”

“Nonsense.” She had scoffed, frowning at the accusation. What reason would Hubert have for having been glaring at him? And surely the former statement was an exaggeration.   
“Please, Edie—just admit it—you do like him!” The songstress had squealed, her eyes growing wide and dancing with mirth. “Or maybe, do you love him?” She gasped, throwing a hand across her chest as though she were acting in another one her operatic dramas. 

She had meant to refute the statement scathingly, rebuke the woman for uttering so outrageous an inquiry—for speaking that word—that word that had absolutely nothing to do with her. Yes, she had meant to.

And yet, her tongue froze in her mouth and no word could escape her. Why? Why did she falter? Why was she unable to reject the question as foolish? Why did she doubt the truth of her own words?

She was certain that her friend had not meant to ruin the culmination of years worth of self-indulgent, ignorant peace regarding the matter of her emotional attachment to others. There were few that she had ever allowed to penetrate the fortress surrounding her heart, and even then, she did not regard that fact consciously. There were simply some with which she felt more at ease, capable of lowering her guard in their vicinity.

And…when had he wormed his way into that brief list. Ah—but to answer that question, she must first admit that he had indeed scaled the walls of her stoic façade and discovered the vulnerable woman beneath. 

That was the most difficult part, was it not? That question forced her to think of it that way—forced her to acknowledge things that she did not wish to realize. It pushed the boundary of matters she wished to keep at a distance—because beneath that innocent inquiry lay a slew of uncomfortable, festering wounds that she had yet to unveil.   
Perhaps, to admit that she was afraid of allowing herself to care for another. Perhaps to admit that beneath the wall of her guise, she was frightened, lonely, and clinging to a past that she simply could not shrug away. Perhaps to admit that she was not as untouchable as she wished to appear. 

And that was simply unacceptable. 

She had the future to look to—to assure her own success, and thus far, she had allowed no distractions to draw her attention from that future.   
Was he…a distraction? Was he truly becoming one?

Suddenly, the offhand remarks, the comments that the others had been making began to weave together. 

The woman pushed the growing realization aside, content to disregard it. 

And of course, the source of her distraction. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He had not realized that he looked sullen. Had not realized he looked so distraught—to the point of having earned his companion’s strange glances and at last, the inevitable inquiry.

“Is something bothering you?” Ingrid was the first to ask, shushing the ginger man across from her as she turned a concerned eye to him. 

Dimitri immediately straightened and forced a smile—though it must have been strained; Felix’s scowl grew more pronounced. The man cleared his throat and waved aside the worry. “What makes you ask?” To seem unperturbed, he picked up his pencil and turned his gaze to the thus-far forgotten page he was supposed to have been working on. As though he could truly focus now.

The woman hummed and glanced at the man across from her for help, knowing his stubbornness when it came to matters regarding his own welfare. “You look unusually…”

“Depressed. I think that’s the word you’re looking for.” Sylvain raised a brow and took a swig of his drink. “And I bet I know why.”

The blond snapped his head up and pinned his friend with a fierce glare. The man was at times infuriatingly perceptive—and he had no doubt that he had indeed surmised the cause of his so-called ‘depression’. It was nothing of the sort, of course; he was simply…concerned. “Hardly.” Dimitri countered, making sure to keep himself composed—lest he snap another pencil by mistake. “I do not know what either of you are talking about.”

Felix scoffed, but did not join the conversation, which was probably for the better anyway. He would surely have nothing kind to add to the discourse. Instead, he lowered his head and resumed working on his own coursework—though still listening. 

But the ginger merely gave him a broad grin and leaned back in his chair, unheeding of his desire to let the matter go. “It’s got something to do with the eagle house girl, right?”  
He swallowed, and his grip on his pencil tightened just slightly. Dimitri disregarded Ingrid’s gasp of surprise and raised his chin. “Edelgard, you mean.” He could at least use her name.

Sylvain smirked and nodded slowly, as though he recalled the name. “Yeah—yeah, that one. What a looker, right?” He laughed as the woman across from him swatted his arm, accustomed to her chastisement. “I noticed you hanging around her—lover’s spat?”

He sighed and ran a hand down his face, shaking his head. Was he truly going to discuss the details of his…relationship with the woman? But then, what good was stewing over the issue himself going to be? 

“Dimitri? Of all people—you?” Ingrid seemed stricken by the idea, her lips parted in shock. “Tell me he’s joking.” 

“To begin with, she and I were not in that sort of relationship.” He clarified, lowering his hand to the table. He supposed there was nothing wrong with divulging a little bit of what had been ailing him to his friends. “But…” Dimitri cleared his throat and turned his head away, almost ashamed to be speaking of such inconsequential matters. “She has been, well, ignoring me of late. I do not know whether I said something that affronted her, or did something untoward—she acts as though we have never met.” 

It would have been understandable if she had acted this way before—when he had kissed her in his drunken daze. Yet even then she had still remained his—what, friend? He had thought they were friends at the least, regardless of what he wanted them to be. 

“Aw, look at that. The prince is in love at last.” Sylvain made a heart with his hands. “And really, I doubt you did something to offend her. You’re probably the last person that could possibly offend anyone, blondie.” 

He was not sure at first whether to be annoyed by the man’s unnecessary remark, or to be relieved by the assurance that whatever the issue was, he was not the cause of it. But still, the former statement struck his heart in a strange way. He could not find it in himself to deny it. He knew, of course, of his attraction to her—he had been battling those feelings for some time now. Whether or not they could be called love in earnest, he was not sure. 

But that was not the issue at the moment. He simply did not know why she had suddenly begun to treat him like a stranger when they had been rather close. 

“Well, I may not be the best source of reference, but…” Ingrid hummed, leaning on the table as she moved closer. “It seems like there’s definitely a problem on her end. It’s impossible to tell what it may be—but, really Dimitri, that’s no way for her to treat you.” The woman frowned, moving her hair over her shoulder. “It’s terribly rude.”

“How about this, genius; go and fucking ask her.” 

Felix grunted, interjecting at last, perhaps having grown tired of listening to melodramatic drivel. 

Despite the crass way it had been said, he found himself amazed that he had not simply done so in the first place. Just because she had not been interacting with him did not mean that he could not approach her. “I should.” As though a light had been turned on in his skull, he nodded. He would—when next he saw her. Most likely after their class. 

Sylvain whistled, observing his reaction. “Damn, Felix just always knows what to say.”

“Because I have more than half a brain cell.” The man snapped, looking up from his work to sneer at his friend. “Now shut up and get busy. I didn’t come here to listen to you whine about your love life.” 

Dimitri chuckled, knowing that his friend’s abrasiveness was really just a front. They all knew it, and thus all tolerated it. He allowed himself to smile as he looked about himself, at his friends—since their youth, as Sylvain began to taunt the black-haired man about his own romantic endeavors, as the young lady began to chide them both for getting distracted. Nothing had really changed with them. He truly hoped it never would.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He could not help but peer outside the window as the professor droned on and on—knowing well that he should have been paying closer attention. Alas, with the day that it was—a deluge pouring a flood onto the earth—a slight lethargy took over his conscious mind and stole away his focus.

Not to mention the rising apprehension and nervousness that had been dogging him since he had made up his mind to approach her. That is, to speak to Edelgard of the sudden distance that had encompassed their relationship. 

So the young man leaned his chin on a knuckle, tapping his pen listlessly against his notebook—the lecturer’s voice white noise as his mind drifted away. The rain spattered endlessly against the pane in thick droplets, the sound impossible to tune out.

His gaze flicked away—just briefly, to the woman that had taken her seat beside the window.

She looked, unsurprisingly, alert, awake. Her lilac gaze was focused solely on the professor, not straying elsewhere as his was doing. Her back was straight, her lips tightly pressed together in what he recognized as the sign of her concentration. Silvery-white hair tumbled down her back in smooth waves, not a strand out of place.

It was where she had sat before they had begun to speak to each other. For a time, she had descended to his row and greeted him with a faint smile, taking the empty chair beside his own. Now, for the past week—or more—the woman had hardly glanced at him. And had returned to her usual seat towards the back. She would be the first to leave.

Thus, he would gather his things a little more quickly today—if he wanted to catch her. 

The young man glanced at his watch and sighed. Just a few more minutes. Some of the other students had already begun quietly shuffling, putting their notes and writing utensils away. He felt tempted to do the same.

A few more minutes indeed—and yet time had seemed to slow to a lengthy drag—the seconds feeling more like hours. He had not known himself to grow so impatient, least of all when regarding class, but here he was, eager to depart. 

As the professor gave his parting words and bid them a good day, at last, the young man brushed his things into his bags as quickly as he could, glancing towards the back of the room.

She was still there, thankfully—ah—she was leaving.

With her bag slung across her shoulder, the young woman rose and fluidly made her exit—before the rest of the horde could stampede through the doors.  
Dimitri murmured a quiet curse and hurried after her, excusing himself as he pushed through the students that had begun to leave. 

His heart began to pound heavily against his ribs as he burst through the doors, his head swiveling to and fro in search of a head of whitened hair. He caught sight of her—hesitating as she peered into the pouring rain.

After a moment, she shook her head and stepped out, breaking into a quick jog, holding her hand over her face.

Dimitri followed after her, his heart leaping to his throat as every step took him nearer. The sportsman that he was, coupled with the disparity in the length of their legs, he caught up to her rather quickly. “Edelgard!”

His voice seemed to stop her in her tracks. She froze in place but did not turn. 

He hurriedly swiped the soaked blond locks from his face and jogged to her, taking his place in front of her. Just as was probably true for him, her hair had darkened to a smooth silver, sodden by the day’s unfortunate weather. The man tried to disregard the trickles of water streaming down his face, swallowing thickly. 

She was looking at him as though he were a stranger, her gaze wary, and her expression impassive. He attributed the slickness of his palms to be a product of the torrential rain and nothing more. “May I—can we talk?” His words seemed to slur off his tongue, incoherent and thick. Why did his head seem so heavy—why was his mind so abuzz? His heart threatened to leap out of the confines of his ribs. 

He watched her brows draw together, saw the uncertainty in her eyes—for just a flicker of a moment. Her hand shifted its grip on the strap of her bag. Otherwise, she was still as stone. As though the droplets soaking into her clothing and skin did not chill her to the bones. And then she gave a curt nod of her head. 

Dimitri wondered how on earth Sylvain managed to woo every woman he came across—he could barely think straight now that he was standing before the one he very much admired. He cleared his throat and averted his gaze, trying to piece together the words he had been repeating in his mind. Whatever eloquent address he had planned seemed to have fled his memory and left him instead stuttering fool.

Very well then. 

He shut his eyes and took a breath, raking his fingers through his dripping hair, growing only heavier with each moment they spent beneath the torrent. “You have been avoiding me.” There was no better way to address the issue than to simply tell her directly, he supposed. 

He opened his eyes and watched the woman step back, a flash of what seemed to be panic darting through her gaze. She knew as well as he that denying the statement would be no more than a waste of breath. 

So he did not allow her to even try. Dimitri sighed once more and raised his eyes heavenward, peering into the dull, greyed sky. “I do not know what I have done—if anything, to have affronted you so strongly that you believe the only course of action was to have begun treating me as no more than a stranger.” He blinked away a drop of rain and lowered his head, meeting her eyes again. “I just wish that you would have spoken to me.” If she had grown so averse to him, he would rather have been notified at the very least—then he would have known to keep the distance.

But to his surprise, remorse darkened her lavender eyes and she looked away, that is, until she seemingly gathered her bearings. Her gaze sparked with a defiant light and she stepped closer, prodding his chest with a finger as she hissed. “Fine—you wish to know? Then yes, it is your fault.” 

He could not help raising his brows, parting his lips in astonishment at the admission. 

Yet she allowed him no time to respond. The woman poked him again, her eyes narrowing, her brows furrowing deeper—and she looked thoroughly perturbed. “You—you are the cause of all of this!” She cried, stepped closer and forcing him to step back. He was keenly aware of diminishing distance between them. The droplets sliding down his back felt exceedingly frigid. 

She jabbed him again and again, stepping closer and closer with every word she grit out. “You are the one that has wormed your way into my heart and tore the walls I have built to shambles. You broke my concentration and distracted me with all these,” She raised her hands as she stumbled over the word she meant to say, and at last gasped out. “Feelings!” The woman looked flushed despite the cold shivering over her skin. “You have left me confused—and I do not know what to do.”

He tried to comprehend everything she had spewed at him then, bewildered by her reasoning. Because it really sounded like— “You…are angry because you…care for me?”   
Perhaps hearing him give voice to the very words she had been trying to avoid deliberately confessing to snapped her into some sort of stupor. The woman went still, simply peering into his face. Or perhaps it simply dawned at last—the realization that she had been wishing to delay. 

And suddenly a dusting of a warm pink crept across her cheeks.

Edelgard stumbled away, shaking her head. “Nonsense. Just—forget I said—,”

Alas, he would not forget, neither would he allow her to pretend that she had not already confessed her own attraction.

There was no intoxication to project the blame of the thoughtlessness of his actions upon. He had bent down and captured her lips and swallowed the rest of her words before she could deny herself, and him. 

She was stiff for a moment, and he feared that he had yet again overstepped his boundaries—and he made to draw away and profusely apologize. Yet before he could, the bag slid from her shoulder and tumbled, forgotten, into the sodden grass. She raised her arms and curled them around his neck, pulling him nearer.

The chill of the day’s storm seemed to fade away, and nothing remained but for the warmth of her body pressed to his, the feelings of her lips tingling against his own. They were warm, soft, dampened by the rain trickling down her face. 

His fingers tangled in the wet clumps of her hair as he pressed even closer, eager to taste her affection, to share his own. 

But she was pulling away—too soon, all too soon. Her hand pressed against his chest and he begrudgingly withdrew, his eyes fluttering open. There were droplets scattered across her lashes—and they were long, he realized as he studied her face. Her eyes met his, and there seemed to be a foreign timidity within their depths.

He wanted to kiss her again. And again—as many times as she would allow him. He wanted to hold her, to see her smile, to hear her laugh. “I like you.” He breathed, feeling almost like an awkward adolescent. “Very much.” Dimitri admitted, noting his own neck heating up. 

She bit her lip and her brow twitched—he could not tell whether in irritation, or for whatever cause. “Dimitri,” His name departed her tongue at last and her hand drew away from his chest. “I am frozen.”

He blinked, remembering that he had indeed stopped her in the midst of a torrential rainstorm. And that he too was drenched. She began to move away, bending to pick up her bag, but he gripped her wrist, not quite satisfied. After all, their conversation was not yet concluded. “I want to hear you say it.” 

“Say what?” She frowned at him, glancing at his hand but making no motion to pull away. 

“That you like me.” He replied, feeling just a bit bolder now that she had not rejected his advances—and, well, now that she had confirmed her feelings afore. He simply wanted to hear her say it outright. 

The woman scoffed and looked away. “How juvenile.” So she said, but she could not meet his eyes. She remained quiet a moment, and then she squirmed a little, still not raising her gaze. It remained fixed on a distant point. “I…like you too.”

He had barely heard her say it, but she had confessed it. He could not stifle the smile that spread across his face—no doubt wide and silly—and when she finally looked back at him, her lips curled up as well. 

“Does that mean that I—are we dating?” He was unfortunately not as learned as a certain one of his acquaintances regarding the finger points of matters such as these. The man suddenly felt a surge of sheepishness, feeling quite a fool.

But a small hand curled around his own and he glanced down. 

She was not looking at him, her face turned away—but a pink blush painted her cheeks. Her silver hair was plastered to her skin, unkempt, her clothing sticking to her figure, dampened by the rain. “Well, you have not, ahem, as they say, ‘asked me out’.”

He twined his fingers with her own. “Will you go out with me, Edelgard?”

She huffed quietly and shrugged her shoulders. “Call me…El.” The woman offered, glancing anywhere but at his face. “And…is it really ok? Dimitri?” There seemed to be genuine hesitation in her expression as she asked, and his heart stuttered.

“I think so.” Why should it not be? He lifted their twined hands to his lips and pressed a kiss to the back of her hand. “El.” 

At last, she raised her gaze, looking at him almost shyly. He had never thought he would see her like this; he relished the image, engraved it into his mind. 

The gentle expression faded from her countenance and she made a sound of disapproval, looking up. “Now then—can we please go somewhere else?”

Ah—yes. The rain. He laughed, the weight having been lifted from his chest. She chuckled quietly and squeezed his hand—and together, hand in hand, they fled the downpour.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All I knew was that I wanted their confessions to be in the rain, and I think I managed it somehow. 
> 
> Also that one fic I mentioned in the chapter before this one is now over 20 pages and a lot darker than most of the content I've written thus far for them, so now I'm just wondering whether to post it in this collection, or to just make it a separate post, because it's technically in this universe, just in the future... 
> 
> What do I doooooo
> 
> Regardless, hope you enjoyed this one. Til next time~


	10. Green is the Color Of

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Such thoughts were, of course, unavoidable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally managed to get something done. The latter parts of the week are the busiest for me, thus, this is a little later than I had meant it to be?
> 
> Regardless, hope this one is as interesting as the others. I like to explore the realistic aspects of relationships, if it hasn't become clear yet, so here's thissss

She had begun to notice something of late.

It was hardly blatant. No, not at all—which in itself was rather astonishing. Because he tended to be vocal about issues he had, regarding their relationship or really, any other matter. 

So of course it was curious that he was silent when it came to this matter. And sometimes, she wondered if she was looking too closely, or perhaps even deliberately seeking the evidence for the claim that had recently been taking in her mind. 

Whether or not she had in fact noticed something, or was merely projecting what she assumed to be true—she was curious. Intensely inquisitive regardless.  
And this matter that she had become so interested in was that of the relationship between her boyfriend and, well, Hubert. 

They certainly did not meet each other frequently—in fact, they hardly ever spoke face to face. Once in a while, when she had forgotten something she needed, she would ask Hubert to bring it to her, or they came across one another purely by coincidence. 

Now, Edelgard had been in what others may call a ‘steady relationship’ for quite some time now; she had grown rather accustomed to the man’s ways, his character. His earnestness was one of the aspects of his nature that she had been drawn to; he certainly did not hesitate to give voice to his discontentedness, and likewise, his happiness. It was rare that he did not confess to a heaviness that weighed his heart, or to what it was that had set his blue eyes alight with excitement.

So, why did he not express his thoughts when it came to her loyal friend?

She was not blind, in fact, she was quite perceptive. And after so long having known him, it was almost impossible to not notice the subtle shifts in his countenance or posture.   
Now, recently she had begun to take note of those very things, more particularly, when her dark-haired companion entered their vicinity. Edelgard was not ignorant as to most people’s aversion to the rather…intense persona that tended to dog her steps like a faithful hound. At first, she had believed that Dimitri too felt a certain discomfort around him, for no cause other than the man’s imposing presence. 

But she had already asked him about that. He had merely shrugged and declared he found nothing disconcerting about her friend. Had it been anyone else, she would have scoffed and declared them a liar, however, there was no deceit in his eyes, and she was forced to accept that Dimitri was not, in fact, afraid of Hubert. 

So what was it then?

And she had begun to pay even closer attention, watching for the exact moment that his displeasure reared its head. 

Only when she had begun her little experiment in earnest did it become more apparent. 

Because Dimitri only every reacted negatively when said man approached a little too familiarly, or in rarer cases, when Hubert touched her. She had grown accustomed to his ways, hardly thought of those gestures as anything significant—and she had surely never deemed them to appear anything more to others. She had certainly never had to be conscious of a lover’s perception. Though, of late, she had begun to rethink her opinion. 

Her conjecture was, in conclusion, that Dimitri—regardless of whether or not he was conscious of it—was envious. 

She presumed it was the latter. The man probably did not know himself that he reacted, which was in itself rather amusing to her. 

Edelgard decided then that she wanted to hear him admit to it. 

And that was the topic that swam round her head as she once again joined him for another study date—in her dorm room this time, the man’s roommate had grown tired of leaving so frequently. Bernadetta was markedly easier to reason with and instead holed up with Dorothea for the time being.

She had taken her usual place at her desk, and he had spread out on her bed, making a fine mess of her neat setup with all of his materials. There were papers and journals spread around his laptop haphazardly, and he was in the middle of the disaster, disheveled himself by how frequently he had been running his hand through his hair.

It was somewhat amusing to watch him admittedly, despite the fact that he was quite visibly distressed. It was an important project, he had told her, and the deadline was nearing. She could not, however, manage to muster any real remorse for distracting him.

In doing so, that also meant that she was getting relatively little of her own work done. A price she would, well not so gladly, pay to receive the answer that she wanted.  
So the woman released another breath and swiveled in her chair to look at him, merely inspecting him for a moment. She pondered briefly how to word the query drifting about her skull. Prodding him too sharply in such a state would only provoke a greater frustration. Carefully, subtly. 

She rolled the words around her tongue and tapped the arm of her chair. “Does…Hubert bother you?” She asked, knowing well that it was a redundant query, but it was as good as any to begin the conversation. 

The man hummed faintly, not even bothering to look up. Had he heard her? After a moment, his head shot up and he met her gaze, seemingly baffled. “Did you say something?” Ah, he had not. The woman repeated her question and watched his brows pull together. “Have you not asked me this already?”

“That is beside the point. Perhaps your opinion has changed.” She countered testily, crossing her arms. Why did she even care so much for this? It was hardly consequential—and she was not yet completely assured that her hypothesis was plausible. 

Dimitri shook his head, sighing faintly. “No.” The man paused, then raised his eyes to her again, one slender brow flicking up. “Why mention this again? Have I done something to make it seem so?”

Well, now she was beginning to feel a fool. The young woman frowned and turned her head away, not quite sure how to respond. In a manner of speaking, yes, he had. “I…you know he has been with me since my youth.” She deflected, clearing her throat quietly, hoping that the statement would incur some sort of reaction from him.  
But he merely nodded, finding no fault with the declaration. Wait—no—there had been the slightest flicker of annoyance. She had managed to note the detail, and decided to name it a victory. Maybe if she goaded him…

Edelgard raised her chin, having decided them to draw an earnest, conscious response. Truly, she did not know why she wanted to hear it—perhaps it was because that meant she was worth growing envious over. Perhaps because she wanted to know that he was possessive over her as she was over him. And she was, admittedly. She did not like when the blond woman from his house hung around him and his friends. 

So maybe she wanted justification for her own tendency towards envy. To know that she was not alone in feeling that way. 

“Hubert is one of my closest confidants, you know.” She told him, distractedly curling a strand of her hair around a finger. “I grew up with him; he knows everything there is to know of me.”

The man nodded, still outwardly unperturbed. He looked back to his laptop and resumed typing, releasing a breath. “I find it strange that he seems to regard himself as…a butler or something of the sort. It is almost concerning, if I may say, that he lowers himself beneath you. That is not how I would prefer my friends act.” 

That was not what she had been expecting—nor hoping to hear. He was, of all things, worried for Hubert? She blinked, snapping herself from her astonishment. Were the man here, he would scoff and chastise Dimitri for even daring to say something so bold. “That is what you take issue with?” A dry disbelief touched at her tone and she shook her head, scoffing quietly. 

The blond arched his brow, seemingly baffled. “What do you mean?” He pushed aside his notebook and sat up, now fully attentive to her. “I am not taking issue with anything.”  
A little more irritation than she had wished flashed through her eyes and she huffed. “Are you not bothered at all by my bond with him?” What was the point of having started this row? Why was she doing this? She hardly knew herself any more what she wanted him to say. 

Dimitri shook his head, his brows furrowing. A frown spanned his lips and he cocked his head at her. “No,” He paused, seemingly searching her expression. “Should I be?”

“No.” Edelgard sputtered, having grown a little flustered by her failing attempt at earning a confession of the sin she was guilty of. She sighed and crossed her arms, averting her gaze dolefully. “It just seemed to me that you were discontent with how close he gets to me at times.” She shrugged, feeling more and more foolish with every word she chose to speak. 

“Odd,” He hummed—and at the very least, her former conjecture had been proven. Whatever reaction he gave was not conscious. “I am sorry if that is so. I had not meant to make it seem that way.” His blue eyes grew dim with a genuine remorse and she felt a twinge of her own guilt for having driven him to feeling that way. Regardless, she understood now that he was not at all comprehending what it was that she was trying to imply.

The woman sagged against her chair and gave up, deciding to forgo the unsuccessful subtlety and merely ask outright. “Do you ever get jealous?” 

Indeed, if his astonishment were anything to go by, the concept had not even crossed his mind. He blinked, perhaps taking a moment to ponder upon the question. “Envious of what?” For heaven’s sake—how naïve could this man be? Was he truly so…faultless? It seemed that he was the personification of virtue.

Edelgard scowled and unfurled her arms, leaning forward. “Of—anything! Of—of Hubert?” She cried out, opting to ignore the slight warmth beginning to creep up her ears. “Do you not worry that I—!” She stopped herself before finishing the statement. That what, that she would be unfaithful to him? The words felt dirty on her tongue; they tasted foul.   
“No; I do not.” He answered calmly, his countenance softening, and a slight smile quirked at the corners of his mouth. Dimitri pushed his materials aside and pat the bed beside him. Glumly, the woman rose and moved to his side, sitting down rather rigidly, feeling like a petulant child ready to be chided for their folly.

The man reached over and enclosed her hand within his, the simple action warm and soothing. Slowly, she allowed herself to relax, heaving a quiet breath. “I trust you, El.” The man chuckled quietly and raised their twined hands, pressing the back of her hand to his lips. “I have seen no necessity for envy.”

Then was she simply insecure? Did she not trust him as he did her? 

He raised his blue eyes and peered into her own. His grip seemed to tighten, just a bit. “Do you trust me, El?” 

He sounded so sincere, so blindly hopeful and trusting—could he not see that she was not like him. She could not see purely the good in others as he did; she could not afford to retain so idealistic a perception of the world. Her heart seemed to quiver uncomfortably in her chest and she averted her eyes. “Of course I trust…you.” She supposed it was true—she wanted desperately to believe in him—and it was almost easy to fall into that trance. 

Yet sometimes she wondered. She wondered whether he might at last discover that she was not as wonderful as he perceived her. She was not as kind, as thoughtful, as caring as he. She was embittered and wary. And one day, he might decide that he did not want a woman as callous as she. 

Perhaps he might better like someone cheerful. Perhaps he might like better someone that did not fear that he might one day grow tired of them. Every time he spoke to another woman, she wondered if he would find that he preferred them to her—and it would not be farfetched to believe that they would not grow enamored with him.

Because he was so bloody kind—to everyone. And sometimes she wished that he was not, that he saved his kindness for her, and her alone. Selfish though it may be, she found herself wishing to hoard his gentle smiles and soft laughs like a dragon might guard its precious treasures. 

How could she admit that to him? How could she allow him to see that selfish, envious serpent that coiled in her heart?

She sometimes felt like a sickness compared to his bright presence. 

And yet, with one smile, he could banish the dark clouds that lingered over her head. He could expel the turmoil from her heart and set her soul to peace, as dramatic as it seemed. 

The woman sighed and leaned against him, closing her eyes. “I am sorry. I do not know what came over me.” She lied, her heart stuttering. Undoubtedly, with his gentle heart, he would forgive her the doubts that twisted like thorns in her chest, but neither did she want him to know that she even possessed them. 

She felt his arm rise to curl around her shoulder; he pressed her closer and leaned his head against her own. “No need to apologize. I should be the one to beg your forgiveness seeing as I have made you worry in some way.” That was antithetical to what she had been anticipating. He had done nothing wrong, and yet here was again, apologizing for trouble that she had caused.

The woman allowed a small smile to curl her lips and shook her head faintly, nuzzling closer. “Fool.” She scoffed, barely audible, and raised her hand to curl her fingers in the fabric of his sweater. Still, the shadowed thoughts that had been blurring the clarity of her rational mind were chased away and she allowed herself to relax. She supposed it did not matter that he did not envy for her sake; it was better, was it not, that he had such unshakable belief in her—in them. 

How she hoped that this would last.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love their dynamic; both pre and post timeskip, because their characters are so engaging and disparate! I just wanted to write about the topic of jealousy, not quite sure how I did, but this came out of it. We'll see what else I can scrounge up for them. 
> 
> What on earth should I write next...
> 
> Actually I think I know exactly what I'm going to write next, and it's gonna be angsty. (If you haven't read Jaded/Broken, it's going to be linked to that, so Idk)


	11. Upheaval

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Consequences.

It was becoming no easier to deny. 

The possibility that she had first rejected without a moment’s hesitation had with every passing day begun to creep into the confines of her skull and loom as would the threat of an oncoming storm.

It crept and crept—a parasitic vine that twined and spread until the need for confirmation, for assurance began to overwhelm her rational mind. There were fewer and fewer excuses she could force off her tongue.

And he was no fool, her vassal. She presumed he accepted her feeble justifications simply because they were her words. But the words had grown sparse. There was little more to say as once again she heaved over the bowl of a toilet, the meager contents of her stomach pushing its way through her throat. Bile fouled her tongue as she retched, nausea coiling in her belly. 

Barely four bites into her breakfast before the need had forced her, stumbling, into the bathroom. 

The woman swallowed breath after breath of air, resting her over-warm forehead against the cool ceramic, pale, her arm clutched tightly around her waist. She sought for any cause, any cause other than the one that she had realized it to be. 

The silk of her robe pooled around her, scarlet against the white tile, as she remained unmoving, unseeing. Everything seemed distant. Everything seemed far, far away—nothing seemed real but for the frigid breath of air creeping along her skin. Her hair slid along her neck, slipping past the neckline of her robe in silvery strands.  
Two knocks, quiet. 

The woman blinked, raising her head slowly, gazing blankly at the wall opposite her. The sleeve of her robe began to slide down her shoulder. 

Whispers outside the door, muffled, incoherent. It clicked open; someone stepped inside. It shut. 

A gentle pressure met her shoulder and she stirred, raising a dull gaze to meet with a pair of concerned hazel eyes. Wordlessly, she raised a hand and wiped at her mouth, swallowing thickly. 

The other woman bent, gingerly rubbing her shoulder. “Hubert told me.” She murmured, as though afraid to raise her voice. With a pause, she bit her lip and turned her head away. “Edie—,”

“What?” She growled, blinking herself from her stupor. She heaved a wavering sigh and shook off the hand on her shoulder, swiping her hand across her face to push aside the unkempt strands. “What did he tell you?” Her voice grew frigid and her eyes hardened. 

Her friend moved away, withdrawing her hand. The woman sighed and reached into her purse, retrieving a box. 

Edelgard stared at the offering, everything seeming to grow hot and cold, twisting back and forth. 

“Please, just…” Dorothea seemed worried—sincerely so. The box was pushed into her hands and the woman stood up, biting her lip as though she wished to say something more. “I’ll be outside.” She carefully stepped out and closed the door behind her.

And Edelgard was left alone, a box of pregnancy tests in hand. 

She knew…simply ignoring the blatant symptoms was no longer an option. It had truthfully stopped being an option some time ago, when first she had noticed that her blood had not come. Yet it was easier to disregard. 

Her hands shook as she unpacked the box and plucked a stick from it. 

How had this happened? A question bounding round her mind, and a question she knew the answer to. One night; one foolish night—one cursed, beautiful night. It had been easy to forget then that there were consequences to every decision. Now it was her fortune that the reminder had arrived.

She felt silly, foolish, holding the little pink and white rod in her hands, her eyes pinned desperately to the results, waiting. How futile it was to hope. How futile it was to believe that the signs did not all point to the very same conclusion.

A positive.

Quiet. A whimper strained through her lips and she clamped them together, pressing a hand to her mouth. Tears slipped, hot and heavy, from her eyes and tricked down her cheeks. 

She had known, of course she had known. But it felt like the axe had descended over her neck at last. The sentence was declared, set in stone. 

This was not supposed to have happened. This was not supposed to have happened. This was not—

A cry broke free of her throat and groaned through her lips, and she squeezed her eyes shut, her head falling. The little rod slipped from her hand and clattered to the tiles. Why did it feel as though the world was caving in around her? Why did it feel as though everything had ceased, that time had stopped and she alone was suspended? 

No more could she contain the cries that scraped through her throat and clambered from her mouth. Her fingers curled in her hair and she wept, wishing bitterly that she were not alone. That he—

“Edie!” A voice drifted into her ears and a pair of arms encircled her. Someone whispered comforting things and embraced her, swaying side to side soothingly. It was not him. He was not here. He would not be here. 

She clung to her friend, weeping against her chest, afraid—petrified. Nothing had wrought such terror in her heart as this—as the life that had taken hold within her, a life kindled by a dead man. 

There was no room in her life for this. No time. She had not the heart for it. And he was not here. 

“Whose…is it?” The woman whispered, her voice calm and quiet, her hands stroking down her white hair. 

A name tumbled from her lips, between the tears, between the broken sobs. His name. She heard her friend’s breath hitch, but the woman said nothing. She remained in place, placating her woes, silent. 

Every cursed, wavering whimper that tore from her throat seemed a needle, biting and sharp; agonizing. She did not weep. She did not weep. And yet, here she remained, collapsed, weeping. The tears seemed endless, seemed like scorching rivers as they trickled down, quivering on the tip of her nose, her chin.  
Her friend released a soft breath and once more drew her fingers comfortingly over her head. “Edie…” There was something in her voice, something frightening—something she knew that she would not wish to hear. “You know, you always have the option.”

The option. What option. 

Her arms curled tighter around her belly and she choked on a gasp. 

She could only imagine his face—his eye, if ever he discovered. And she—how could she—

She was shaking her head before the words had even formed on her tongue. This life—this life that she, and he, had kindled—it had done nothing wrong. It was pure and innocent, untainted by the filth that marred her own life. 

And should she remove it? Should she harden her heart and dispose of this supposed blemish before it grew and drained the vitality from her? Oh, how simple it would be. How simple it would be to toss this moment behind her; to forget that it had ever occurred. 

One trip. There was no shortage of clinics that she could visit, discreetly. No one need know. 

And she remembered him. Remembered how desperately he had clung to her. This was the proof—the evidence of having seen him, of knowing that he was alive. This was the product of their union. Their flawed, imperfect union. This was the product of five years, more, of a lingering sentiment—of a cursed, hopeless love.

This was their child. She was carrying their child. 

A shaking hand rose and wiped away the rolling tears. “No.” The word fell as an anchor, heavy. “No.” She repeated, raising her bleary eyes, rift with unshed tears. “I will not.”  
The woman merely nodded faintly, rubbing her shoulder, accepting the decision she had so firmly declared. “Ok.” Her friend nodded again and whispered, managing a small, soft smile. “I’m here, Edie. I’ll help you.” The steadfast, indomitable woman looked so frail then—her lavender eyes wide and afraid, and it made her own chest grow tight. 

And suddenly a wild panic flickered through those lilac eyes and the woman gripped her hands, fearful. “No one.” She hissed, her silvery hair falling around her face in disheveled waves. “No one will know.” 

“Of course.” Dorothea agreed solemnly, swearing her silence. And that included him. Felix. She could not tell him either, and consequently, the father himself. No; she would do as Edie wanted and still her tongue. This was one circumstance that took precedence over all. 

She would keep silent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't think I have to tell you that I really like writing this AU. 
> 
> (This chapter succeeds the events of Jaded/Broken, which I have not posted into this collection)
> 
> I started playing Azure Moon again; maddening mode. Fun times ahead.


	12. Incidental Thoughtlessness and a Few Consequences

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The heat of the moment often leaves you dazed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A Thank you to the folks on the Dimigard discord for fueling the inspiration behind this piece

She was only vaguely coherent by the time his lips were flush against her skin—for what seemed to be the hundredth time. 

It was difficult to concentrate, no less to think, whilst her lover heaved against her. 

There was no sound but for the gentle puffs of air that left her lips, the quiet creaking of the bed. Her eyes remained half closed, her arms coiled around his neck. He drove thoughts of the morrow from her mind with every fluid motion, every roll of his hips.

She was not given the chance to ruminate upon otherwise pressing concerns, and she was most certainly not conscious of the trail of reddening marks he peppered up her collar, up her throat. She only just felt his teeth grazing the soft skin, felt the gentle suckling, and thought nothing of it—other than it felt pleasant and she would very much like him to continue doing so.

Her fingers curled between silken strands of golden hair and the young woman sighed, her head lolling against the pillow. 

He groaned his release against her skin, and slowly his rolling motions ceased. His head fell against her chest and she felt the heat of his breath sweep across her flesh.   
The man sagged against her, his strength spent—and she saw through her hazy vision that his eyes had fallen shut. A quiet scoff tumbled past her lips and she ran her fingers over his scalp, content. 

And so she descended into a peaceful slumber, not a worry to mar her lovely countenance, nor concern to furrow her brow. 

\----------------------

“Are you really in such a hurry?” 

His voice betrayed his want of sleep, and as she glanced behind, she found that his face displayed the same. His hair was still ruffled, his eyes drooping slightly—and it was quite difficult to keep her gaze from straying, seeing that her lover was still as naked as he had been the night prior, and the blanket was riding down his belly. 

Edelgard hummed, swiftly slipping on the slacks she had thrown aside. “Yes. I managed to forget that I had an engagement today. Rather soon.” Truthfully, it was not one that she earnestly wanted to attend. Yet, her station required it. Her uncle would be most displeased should she disregard their meeting and remain abed with her lover—regardless of how tempting the idea was. No, of course she could not make foul that promise.

It was a matter regarding her future after all. 

She sighed and pulled on her blouse. There was yet time to return to her dorm and at the very least, choose fresher attire than the tired garments she had worn the day afore. “You can feel free to resume your sleep.” The woman tossed the tired man a smile, not that he needed her permission to do so. 

With a quiet sound of agreement, the blond man yawned and turned to the other side, seemingly content to do as she had suggested. She could not blame him; he had been having a trying time of late, from what he had divulged to her. Something about trouble at home—it had been worrying him, and of course, the incessant load of coursework made his burden no easier. 

She wished that she could aid him in some way—whatever way she could. When she had voiced this desire, he had laughed and embraced her and merely told her that her presence was a soothing balm. It would have to do, she supposed. 

Edelgard took only a moment to straighten her clothing, clearing her throat quietly as she retrieved her purse and made for the door. Before she could depart, however, she spared him one more glance, her gaze roaming his figure. 

The woman released a quiet sigh and turned away. Maybe she would come see him again when her business had concluded. Perhaps he would allow her to aid him with one of his upcoming projects. 

But that could wait. 

She schooled her expression into a mask of indifference and left the room, quietly closing the door behind her. 

A young woman with orange hair greeted her cheerfully as she made to descend the stairs, going so far as to hop towards her, not perturbed in the least at having seen her exiting a certain man’s room so early in the morning. 

“Good morning!” The girl chirped, joining her as she made her departure. 

“Annette.” She replied, rather stiffly. She was still not quite sure how to interact with the man’s friends and housemates. They were all infuriatingly…nice. It seemed like some sort of plague—well, not all of them were infected. A familiar face, scrunched into a scowl, passed by her—the man to whom it belonged rising up the steps as she descended them.   
The girl shouted a greeting to the perpetually unhappy man, and only then did he bother to wave a hand. She grinned and stretched her arms. “Ooh, I’m so hungry! Are you out to get breakfast as well?”

Edelgard frowned faintly and shook her head, pausing out of decency as they made it to the first floor. “No. I have a meeting to get to.” She shifted her grip on her purse and looked around, watching the denizens of the Lion house amble about and get ready for the day. She spotted yet another woman she recognized—the gentle Mercedes. 

“Aw. Well, ok.” Annette seemed just a bit disappointed, but nodded—and she had to wonder, was the girl planning on inviting her along? “Good luck!” Her spirits simply could not be dampened, it seemed, for just as quickly as the dejected expression flickered across her face did a smile replace the frown. 

And so she was given the chance to escape—fortunately managing to avoid garnering anyone else’s attention. The sandy-haired woman caught her eye, but merely waved at her, to her relief.

She hurried out of the building before she had noticed the woman’s eyes grow wide in surprise. Thus neither was Edelgard able to see that she had pressed a hand to her mouth and giggled, shaking her head. 

Her mind was full of the concerns that had begun to press her. Most revolved around this cursed meeting. They were never pleasant—most often they were comprised of thinly veiled attempts to pull her away from the university before graduation, something she had thus far vehemently resisted. 

She had already promised to return home and assume the position of head of the corporation—and still he was not content? Often it was that she wondered why he so insisted upon her return. There seemed something strange with how urgent the matter appeared to him. But of course, as usual, she could not allow herself to dwell on her uncle’s whims and wants. She wanted to attend the university, to focus her time and attention upon it—and, of late, there had risen a new priority.

That of spending time with Dimitri. She was loath to think of leaving him any sooner than she knew that she would have to. The days seemed…brighter now that he had become a rather permanent fixture in her life. 

And again her thoughts dwelled upon him!

She sighed and shook her head, knowing that she did not have the luxury of daydreaming. Not at the moment, at least. 

The woman hurried to her own dormitory, shivering slightly in the whisper of morning chill that breathed against her skin. 

Most of the building was still asleep at this time, not at all surprising considering the students that resided in it. She knew well that a certain green-haired young man would not be waking until well after noon; she would have already returned by then. 

Edelgard hurried up the stairs and slipped into her own room, not astonished to see her roommate still comfortably curled up in her bed, snoozing the light away. Almost enviable.   
She crept about their room, gathering new pieces of clothing quietly. The woman changed as quickly as she could, wanting to simply get this meeting over with. Half of it was undoubtedly going to be his wayward attempts to make small-talk; the preferred method of delving into business. Fill the space before it with empty chatter in order to appear amicable—to make it seem as though he cared for her wellbeing. 

The same questions posed each time; the same answers given. Her classes were going well—and yes, that was good. No, she did not long for home; why should that be so surprising? Her friends were fine, and that was lovely. 

Nonchalantly, he would remark upon her father’s failing health. Calmly, he would make a note of how wonderful she would be as a replacement for his position. No—of course there was no pressure, he would insist, lay his hand upon her own—with a faint, coldly comforting smile. It was her decision. 

She wondered if he did not tire of the charades they played every time they met. She certainly did.

The woman scoffed as she pulled on a new shirt and combed out her hair quickly. With a glance at her phone, she saw that Hubert had notified her that he was ready, waiting. Well, in that case, there was no cause to tarry. 

Thus, without a moment’s delay, she rushed from the room without even having glanced at the mirror.

\------------------

She had been wondering for some time why her uncle had been giving her strange looks. Why even Hubert had glanced at her and furrowed his brows. Yet, neither had said anything, so she had not inquired. 

No—not a soul had thought to mention it. 

Not until she had stepped foot back into her dormitory, having concluded her visit with her uncle. It was only then that, by chance, Dorothea had been making her way out—and the woman’s eyes had gone comically wide.

A startling gasp rent through her lips and the woman hurriedly took her arm, pulling her aside. “Edie!” The woman whispered scathingly, a glimmer of amusement sparkling in her hazel eyes. “How utterly brazen of you!” 

She shook her friend off, her brows furrowing with no small measure of confusion. “What?” She eyed Hubert, standing still just a few feet away—and the man averted his eyes. He had done so a few times already, and it was a little more than concerning. 

Dorothea, pressed her lips together in an apparent attempt to stifle a laugh, and once again tugged her along. “My, my, the kitty cat does like to bite, doesn’t he?” The woman quipped as she dragged her, to her further confusion, to the bathroom. “Your precious lion seems to have, ah—well, take a look.” Without delay, Edelgard found herself steered before the mirror.

And it took no more than a moment to discover the cause of her friend’s teasing, the cause of Hubert’s strange looks. Her eyes grew wide and her lips fell open, gaping. She clapped a hand over her neck, a horrific blush bursting across her cheeks. 

Because all over her pale skin were little red marks. Very, very evident marks. 

Her eyes flicked to the side, watching Dorothea’s reflection behind her—noting how difficult it was for the woman to keep from laughing. Unremarkably, she herself was…mortified. How many people had taken note of the state of her skin? And why on the bloody earth had Hubert not said something the moment he had noticed? She had seen her uncle like this! 

The songstress cleared her throat and bit her lips slyly. “Well, I get, really—I do. If I had a man like that marking his claim over me, I’d show off too.” She shrugged nonchalantly, as though this were a common occurrence and not at all something to find shameful.

Edelgard cursed loudly and whirled around, her countenance still painted a bright pink. That—! Oh, he had certainly earned her ire; now she had only to extract her retribution against him. She cleared her throat and shook off her irritation for the time, slowing her lungs to a pace more composed. “You…would not happen to know where he is, Dorothea.” She asked, non-too innocuously, a little too calmly. 

The woman raised a prim brow and her lips curved into a mischievous smile. “Well, I would, actually.” She tapped a manicured finger against her arm, no doubt curious as to what Edelgard meant to do. 

“And where might I find him?” Her patience was running thin; her façade of indifference fading as once again she thought of how she had spoken so haughtily with her uncle, ignorant of the mess that marked her skin. Her irritation spiked and she scowled. 

“Library. Though, if I recall—he’s not alone.” Another sly smile.

“All the better.” The woman growled as she pushed past her friend, her mind set upon only one purpose. She would see it fulfilled.

Before that, however—she would return to her dorm and wrap a scarf around her neck. She had suffered enough such humiliation for the day.

\-------------------

It took a bit longer than she had expected, traversing the library in search of him. Yet, she did manage to find him and his group of friends. Yes, the four of them sat in the very corner of the third floor—and she could tell even from her distance that they were at ease with each other. As usual, the woman and the silver-tongued man were bickering, the dark-haired grump was hunched over his work, ignoring them, and Dimitri was as ever, the mediator between the pair.

She wondered briefly what it might have been like to have grown up with others, to preserve such a strong bond throughout the years. 

That was beside the point. 

The woman steeled herself, once again donning the guise of outward solemnity—as she tended to do in the presence of those she did not know well. Slowly, she approached, keeping her eyes pinned upon the blond man. Her thoughts traveled to the red pinpricks lining her skin and once more she felt a flicker of annoyance. 

The man looked up and caught sight of her before she could say a word. His brows rose in surprise and he raised his chin, meeting her gaze.

“Dimitri.” She called out, disregarding the other three pairs of inquisitive eyes that turned to her. She spared them no time, merely keeping her stare locked upon the man whom she had come to find. “May we speak?”

She heard the ginger snicker under his breath, heard the woman beside him groan—as though accustomed to his quips. But the blond man nodded, excusing himself from his group. “Yes—certainly.” Fluidly, he pushed out of his chair and rose—looking markedly more kempt than he had prior. It was to the fortune of her scheme that he had worn a simple collarless sweater, and she bit back a smirk of triumph.

The woman waited until he had moved to her side to turn and lead him elsewhere—guiding him through the towering cases of books, into their depths. And when at last she had deemed their distance from all other presences sufficient, she finally turned and shoved him back against one such sturdy bookshelf. 

An audible gasp tumbled from his lips—undoubtedly she had caught him unawares. Seamlessly, she gripped his sweater and pulled him down, low enough that she could reach his throat. And mercilessly, she bit down on the soft skin—garnering another soft sound from him. 

It was as she began to suck on the spot she had chosen that he seemingly regained his senses. His hands rose to her arms and he pushed her back firmly. “El!” He cried, though quickly lowering his voice, having realized where they were situated. “What are you doing?” The man hissed, and she raised her eyes, noting how wide his had become, pleased to see a dusting of red creeping across his cheeks. “This is hardly the place—,” 

“Oh?” She cocked her head, smiling impishly. “My mistake.” She drawled, completely unapologetic, and shook off his hands. Without waiting for him to attempt to stall her efforts again, she attached her lips to his neck, nipping down the exposed flesh, quite enjoying the slight hitches in his breathing, even as he once more tried to pull her away.   
A cat could bite, but an eagle could just as certainly peck. She imagined that it would hurt no less, as well. 

His attempts to resist were feeble at best, she noted as he began to succumb—if he had truly wanted her to stop, then he could very well stop her. It was always very easy to tell when Dimitri was unhappy in earnest—yet another benefit of such a forthright character. 

The woman hummed and ran her lips down his throat once more, tugging down the neckline of his sweater and leaving one last bite right between his collarbones, and she sucked until it was very painfully red. She would love to watch him try to hide that.

Having succeeded in securing her revenge, the woman stepped away, smiling rather smugly at the flustered man. 

“El—how—what am I supposed to say?” He raised a hand to his throat, looking rather concerned—but it only fed her triumph. 

“That will be your dilemma to work out.” She goaded, smoothing her hands down his chest, unable to keep from smiling. “After all, I dare say it is not much worse than what you did to me.” She allowed a hint of venom to taint her tone as she raised a hand and pulled down her own scarf.

His eyes darted to the skin she had revealed to him—and realization dawned, and a sheepish remorse followed. He swallowed, and his throat bobbed, his brows furrowing faintly. “I—duly apologize.” He murmured, averting his gaze, and it was endearing enough a sight to melt the rest of the irritation frosting her heart. 

Edelgard laughed, releasing him at last, curling the cloth around her neck again. “I would only ask that you be more cognizant next time.” 

Dimitri chuckled, some of his tension having faded, and he rubbed the back of his neck. “I thought you enjoyed it.”

That was hardly the issue. “I do.” She countered, tossing her hair with a huff. “However, the fact remains that the locations in which you choose to dote your affections on are a bit too…apparent.” The woman bit her lip to keep from smiling like a fool as she took his hand and rested it over her chest. “Here is fine.” She dragged it lower, stepping closer to him, allowing her lids to flutter tantalizingly. “Or here.” It felt heavy, warm as she glided his palm over her navel, delving lower, lower—his blue eyes seemed to have darkened.

To her wicked delight, she noticed a rather visible strain in his trousers, deciding that she had teased him long enough. With a quiet cough, she let go of his hand and moved away, once again assuming a taciturn air. 

“Well, that was all. I leave you to your studies.” Edelgard spared him one last lingering smirk, watching him sputter as she turned and made her departure. She…hoped that he would not take this as a declaration of war. He very well could, and that in turn, could take a turn for the worse for her. The man knew her weaknesses keenly—and if he did decide to reciprocate, he could defeat her with ease. 

But—it would be a loss she would not mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The thought of them dealing with hickeys was just too good to pass up so here we are. Stupid, lovable dorks. 
> 
> I've got another physics exam this thursday and here I am binge-writing because i'd go insane if I didn't. Do I need to pass? Do I really need my degree??? (yes)
> 
> All's good; All's well
> 
> If you guys are having fun reading, then I'm having fun too. Well, writing's fun regardless, but it's fun to share! Aight, I might be getting incoherent because I should be sleeping.


	13. To One, and Now the Other

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Was it so surprising? Not really. A moment of peace, however, was desirable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No angst here, buddy

Well, he supposed it could not be considered too surprising when he woke with a horrid cough and a nose both dry and running. Many nights of late had he been wakeful, hurrying to finish projects before their deadlines, the stress of finals looming over him. It was hardly astonishing that his health had turned for the worse.

That was what he told himself as he lay, staring dully at the grey ceiling, his body seeming to ache and throb, protesting the necessity to rise and pull through yet another day.   
It was undoubtedly unfortunate timing. 

He doubted that he would be able to attend practice in such a state. Certainly he was in no condition to go to class, spread his cursed illness. That was only logical…but it made it no easier to accept. He was not a student that liked to miss class; he attended dutifully and diligently.

With a quiet sigh, the young man pressed a hand to his forehead, struck by how warm his skin felt. 

Well, so be it. There was hardly anything he could do, and whinging about having fallen ill would do him no good, and most certainly stir his roommate’s ire. It was fortunate, he decided, that Felix had already gone and was not here to witness his pathetic state. 

Dimitri groaned quietly as he extended his arm and groped the small bedside table for his phone. At the very least, he could ask his lover to share her notes with him, when and if she could spare the time. She was a busy young woman—and had been even more so recently, tugged to and fro by her duties outside of campus, thus he had no expectations that she would shift aside her schedule just to see him. Nor would he ask her to.

Besides, it was better that she not see him so weakened. He had his pride after all.

So with bleary eyes, he managed to type out something vaguely coherent, tossing the device aside after having sending the message, and promptly turned pulled the blanket over his shoulder. At least an hour more to shut his eyes. 

Well, that had been his plan—abruptly torn to tatters when the door briskly opened, as forcefully as he knew his always angry roommate did. 

No sooner had his eyes fallen closed, they snapped open again and he looked over his shoulder, frowning at the man that had decided to come back so soon. And in turn, his dark-haired friend stood, a smirk curling his lips. 

Felix scoffed and strode further in, shaking his head as he moved to his side of the room. “Little late to be snoozing, don’t you think?” He asked derisively, seemingly searching for something he had left behind.

“I would appreciate if you kept your voice down.” He managed to murmur, turning away once again. The usual tolerance he had for his friend’s taciturn nature was reduced quite drastically. He had not the strength to spare for dealing with the jeering quips. “And leave me be.” He added, closing his eyes again. 

Another snicker sounded as his friend shuffled around, gathering his belongings. Fortunately, he said nothing more, and after a few moments, the sound of the door clicking shut gave way to blissful silence.

Very well; a slight disruption, but hardly anything to grow irritable about. Dimitri settled in once again, adamant on catching up on at least some of the sleep he had lost over the past week. It would do him well, and perhaps, if he recovered some of his energy, he might go ahead and do some coursework. 

That was his plan. A wonderful plan, no doubt.

Yet fated never to see completion, as yet another interruption pulled him from his rest. 

He heard whispers—well, if even such a term could be ascribed to such a poor attempt. “Is he sleeping?” Someone’s voice hissed through the quiet.

“I don’t know! Should we wake him?” 

They belonged respectively to the younger pair of his house; a cheerful girl and a dutiful young man. What they were doing in his room, he had not the faintest. It was unusual for either to intrude upon his space, seeing as his roommate did not take well to others visiting. 

He heaved a sigh and turned over, sitting up and narrowing his eyes at the pair—startling once they had seen him stir. “Ashe, Annette.” He greeted, a little more tersely than what was common for him. “What are you two doing here?”

The grey haired boy glanced at his companion and shifted his weight from foot to foot. “Uh—well, Felix said you were sick, so,”

“Ashe has this amazing home remedy!” Annette interjected, snatching the little jar from the man’s hands and rushing forward to offer it. “We thought you should try it. It’ll get you better in no time!” Her grin was wide and rather contagious, as was usual, and he could hardly remain irritable with their disruption. 

As ever, they were well-intentioned, though a little misguided in their effort. Ah, well. He accepted the small jar, raising a brow at the dubious contents, but nodded all the same. “Thank you.” His voice had truly hoarsened, sounding more like a growl than something a human should produce. He cleared his throat and set the jar aside, mustering a faint smile, grateful for the concern, if nothing else. 

“Ah—Annette, maybe we should—,”

“Ooh, and I could bake you up something warm—it’s too bad you won’t make it to practice; I was going to come cheer you all on!” The girl did not heed her companion as he gently tugged on her sleeve, Ashe probably having noted the man’s desire to be left in peace. 

Dimitri coughed, turning away from his visitors as a particularly wretched sound tore from his lungs. “Really,” He waved his hand dismissively, grimacing. “There is no need.”  
“Right. You probably need some rest. Come on, Annette.” Ashe smiled and tugged a little more forcefully, finally garnering the girl’s attention. “Get well soon!” The boy called, waving his farewell, partially dragging the young woman along with him. 

And once the pair had departed and he found himself in solitude once more, the man sighed and laid back, peering dolefully at the ceiling, almost half-expecting someone else to come running in. His throat ached, everything felt stiflingly warm. 

Minutes passed and there was no more intrusion, and thus he finally allowed his eyes to fall shut.

Only to hear a quiet knock. 

His lips pressed together in a swelling irritation, but he swallowed his aggravation and sat up again, in time to see a solitary figure slip into his room. 

“Oh—good morning, Dimitri.” A soft voice, and softer smile greeted him—and his annoyance vanished. It was simply not possible to be angry with the gentle Mercedes. The woman came bearing a tray, laden with what seemed to be various medicines and some edible goods. Her eyes strayed to the bedside table and she chuckled, wandering over. “I see they’ve already passed through. How are you feeling?”

Her presence was admittedly soothing—she made for a wonderful nurse, the profession for which she was in training. The man coughed again and shrugged. “I…have been better.” He watched as she began to unload the platter, leaving bottles of solid and liquid medicines for him to consume. “Oh, sleeping pills?” That earned his attention, and he looked at the woman, surprised.

She smiled, almost forlornly, and nodded. “I know you have trouble sleeping.” In a rather motherly fashion, she reached over and brushed aside some dampened locks from his face. “Make sure you drink plenty of water, and get some rest. Don’t overdo it today, ok?” He felt like a child under her discerning eyes, and could do nothing but acquiesce. “Want anything? Tea? Some food?”

“No—not really.” He rasped, blushing faintly when she chuckled at the sound of his voice. “You need not worry over me, Mercedes. I am sure that I will be perfectly alright.”   
She hummed distractedly and pressed her palm to his forehead, frowning. “You have a slight fever. My, my, do I have to call Dedue?”

His brows rose and he shook his head. “Hardly. A cold is not worth his time. His duties are far more important than me.” Well, that was debatable, but he liked to think it was true. The woman certainly did not seem convinced, but she shrugged faintly and moved away. 

“Alright then; just call me if you need anything.” With a joyous smile, she patted his shoulder and took her leave. 

But as she left, he did not lie back down, simply remained, staring at the door in anticipation. Anyone else? 

A frown curled his lips, and ever so slightly, he allowed himself to relax once more. Surely there would be no others. His own was currently underway, to his slight disappointment. He did not enjoy missing new material. 

Just as he made to lay down—the door burst open yet again, with such ferocity that his heart near leapt from his chest. 

“I can’t believe it!” A voice shouted, aghast, and this time, he could not restrain the groan. “He’s sick! He’s actually gone and fallen sick! Our lead player—our captain!”

“Sylvain!” Another voice interceded, audibly irritable. Then came the expected sound of impact and a pained cry. “Can you keep it down?”

Dimitri took a deep breath and raised his head, forcing a smile as he greeted his friends. “I see Felix had no restraints when it came to spreading the news.” No doubt it was purposeful; the man had known that this would have happened. 

The bickering pair turned to look at him, one markedly more apologetic than the other. It was Ingrid that hurried to his side first, leaving behind the ginger. “We’re sorry—I tried to stop him, but he just wouldn’t listen.”

“Of course not! We’ve got a big game coming up.” If only the man paid as much heed to his studies as he did to his sport. Sylvain sighed in a rather overdramatic manner and shook his head dejectedly. “Man, this sucks.”

“I agree.” Dimitri growled, hardly able to force words through the thickness of his throat. 

The woman raised her eyes heavenward and heaved a sigh. “Leave him alone, Sylvain. He never gets sick.” And she turned her gaze to him, frowning. “How do you feel?”  
“Rather miserable, as you might expect.” The man coughed into his arm, wincing at the pain that followed. There was nothing else to be said. His light tee-shirt felt as though it was plastered to his skin with his sweat, uncomfortable. 

“So you’re really not coming to practice today, huh?” The other man asked in a rather last ditch effort, perhaps hoping that his friend might persevere and attend despite the illness plaguing him. A pair of narrowed blue eyes and furrowing golden brows was the response he received. He raised his hands in surrender, sighing again. “Fine, fine. I’ll get Felix to lead.”

“Do you need anything?” Ingrid turned her attention to him, glancing at the table laden with all sorts of medication. “Or not. Mercie’s probably got that covered.” Her brows rose in surprise, but she shook it off and left his bedside, returning to Sylvain’s side. “Let us know if you need anything.” She gripped the man’s arm and forcibly turned him away, uncaring for the grumbling she received in response.

He stared after them, feeling much like a bedridden patient in a hospital. Yet, it was hardly as drastic—a simple cold and everyone felt the need to check in. He supposed he could not be so ungrateful; he was glad that they cared enough for him to do so. It was, after all, touching. He simply hoped that that was the end of the procession. 

That had been everyone he knew well in his house; he doubted anyone else would spare the time. He hoped, at least. 

Finally, a moment of true peace. 

The man flopped back and shut his eyes, relaxing his stiffness and taking a deep breath—as deep as he could with his clogged nose. It was hardly late morning and already he had felt as though the day had spun by. But it had not, and he had the rest of it to spend wallowing in this wretched state. 

His mind drifted off, various hazy images forming, various memories. He hoped that he would be able to fall asleep, at least for a little. 

He hoped, but it seemed futile. His mind was too restless, flitting from one subject to the next, unable to keep still and settle down. Too many thoughts plagued his head. It seemed that all the visits had driven the want of sleep from him. He was too thoroughly woken, he feared. A true disappointment. 

Still, he simply turned on his side and stared at the wall, not wishing to rise regardless. 

He did not often fall ill—had not for quite some time, and that he had signified that he truly had been working himself to exhaustion. It was not that he enjoyed doing so, it just made for an easy distraction. Sleepless nights were better spent working than remaining idle. 

As he ruminated upon recollections, the memory of a rather similar scenario rose to the forefront of his mind. It was some time ago, but he still remembered when Edelgard had fallen ill—her friend had notified him through Felix. He remembered seeing her, flushed and glassy-eyed, dressed so leisurely; vulnerable. She had permitted him to tutor her in the topics she had been absent for. It was a fond memory, simple though it was. 

A small smile curled at the corners of his mouth. Even then, he had already been besotted with her. An enamored young fool. 

There was a sound outside his door, muffled slightly, and he looked over his shoulder, bewildered. Dread began to build in his chest and he bit back a groan. Not again. Who was left to disrupt his silence? 

Yet, when the door was thrown open and a familiar figure stumbled through, panting, disheveled, no ire remained. In fact, the dread was replaced with an astonished elation, and the man quickly sat up. “El?” 

At hearing his voice, the woman startled, hurriedly straightening. She smoothed hand down her windswept hair and cleared her throat. “D-Dimitri.” She greeted, undoubtedly trying to sound composed, as though she had not practically been flying up the stairway. Her cheeks were still yet a bit flushed from exertion and thus her guise of solemnity was betrayed regardless. 

His eyes wandered her figure, straying to the paper bag at her side, held slightly back, as though in an effort to hide it. “What are you doing here?” He tried to keep his voice low, quiet, rather than allowing it to grow hoarse and warped. 

She waved her phone dismissively, then strode forward and set the bag atop the desk, her eyes lingering on the numerous items laid out. He noticed a beat of hesitation. “I saw your message.” The woman turned to face him, frowning. “Have you not even gotten up to shower?” Her nose crinkled slightly and she shook her head. “You must be covered in sweat.” Her hands darted to her hips in a rather authoritative posture and she raised her head. 

“Well—I,” He stumbled over his words, abashed by her having taken notice of such a detail. 

“Go.” She gestured with her head, leaving no room to dissent. “Have you taken any of these yet?” He watched her pick up an untouched bottle as he achingly pushed himself up. She set it down and returned her gaze to him, her eyes surveying his physique. 

He shook his head lamely, having planned to do so later. 

With a huff, the woman pinned him with a disapproving gaze. There was little to do but hurry to follow her bidding. Edelgard was no Mercedes; her version of showing care was at times a little intense. That said, he knew she meant well, so he bit his tongue and hurried out, still surprised that she had even deigned to arrive. 

The thought remained with him as he rinsed himself in the tight spacer of the dormitory shower. What had it meant that she had come here so quickly? What of her other responsibilities? Surely they were of more import than the insignificant cold that had taken him in his grip. 

That did not mean, however, that he was in the slightest disappointed by her appearance. Quite the contrary, he was quite delighted. He had, in truth, not been expecting to see her for another week or so—his time with her was dictated fully by the fullness of her schedule. It had been quite tedious to meet up recently. 

The shower he took was quick, and no more than a few minutes passed until he was drying his hair and slipping on a fresh pair of sweats and a shirt. 

He returned to his room and found the woman tidying up his desk, organizing the various things that had been brought to him. The little paper sack had been left untouched on the corner of the table. “You really need not have bothered.” He commented, draping his sodden towel over his shoulder. 

She glanced back, and once again he noted that there seemed to be a hint of melancholy in her lilac gaze. Quickly, she blinked it away and stepped away, clearing her throat. “Well, I have.” She shrugged and swiped a bottle from the table, waving it. “Take some.” Without waiting for affirmation, she tossed the bottle at him. 

He caught it deftly, pausing to read the label. Cough syrup. “I suppose I should.” With a sigh, the man unscrewed the cap and took a generous swallow, unbothered by the taste that was by most considered rather sickening. “Did you not have other tasks to attend to today? I had not imagined I would see you so soon.” He asked as he wandered over to the table, setting the bottle down again. Already, his throat seemed a little less scratchy. 

The woman shrugged, crossing her arms and looking away. “I…” Her cheeks seemed to grow just the faintest pink and she coughed quietly. “It does not matter.”

A smile tugged at his lips and he chuckled hoarsely. “Well, alright then.” 

She turned and shuffled through the things in her bag, mumbling something under her breath. “I brought you some notes that you missed.” The woman turned her head and glanced at him, seemingly composed again. 

He hummed, creeping behind her and peeking over her shoulder, trying to catch a glimpse into the brown bag. “Thank you.” He laid his chin on her shoulder, evidently startling her. She gasped and jolted slightly, her head snapping to the side. “What is that?” He nodded towards the sack that she had thus far said nothing about.

“It is…nothing significant.” She murmured, her expression growing just a tad tighter. “Certainly nothing as helpful as what the rest of your entourage has left you.”

The man curled his arms around her waist and closed his eyes, sighing. “That was all mostly Mercedes. But everyone did come by.” He chuckled drily, enjoying the feeling of being so close to her. A feeling he had missed. “In fact, I was beginning to wonder if the visits would ever end.”

He felt her stiffen just a bit. “Am I bothering you?” There seemed an edge to her voice, one that surprised him.

The man straightened, turning her to face him. “No,” He shook his head, his brows furrowing. “Of course not. I am glad—beyond glad that you came.”

Her shoulders drooped and the woman sighed quietly, lowering her head. She seemed almost dejected—a strange description to ascribe to the ever assured Edelgard. “I am sure that Mercedes is much gentler than myself. I am no good with…any of this. You have so many friends that adore you—how could I hope to compare?”

Did she think of herself as inferior to them? He almost scoffed at the notion, but instead, he twined his arms around her once more and pressed her to himself. “You need not compare yourself. I have known them for long, yes, but that does not mean that I value you less. You are as much in my heart, if not more, El.”

Her arms coiled around him hesitantly, but after a moment, the woman relaxed against him and rested her head against his chest. 

They remained so for a short time, neither quite willing to part so soon. Regardless, it was Edelgard that pulled free first, and concurrently, reached behind herself to pluck the bag that she had brought. “I,” She cleared her throat, her brows furrowing slightly—and again, a faint dusting of pink whispered over her cheeks. “I thought that this might cheer you up.” With a soft murmur, she pressed the bag into his chest, waiting until he gripped it to release it.

With no small amount of curiosity, he pried open the top and peered inside. A sweet bun—the very kind that both he and she enjoyed, and the first thing they had shared on a date. He could not but grin at the gift. Though it was not medicine, it certainly did serve to improve his mood. “If I were not ill, I would kiss you.” He chuckled, setting the bag aside. “But we can share it later. Would you mind going over the notes with me?”

Edelgard’s eyes widened slightly, but quickly she composed herself. “Absolutely not.” She shook her head, once again assuming the firm tone of command. Before he could ask why, she jabbed a finger in his chest and forced him back. “You need to sleep. So get back to bed—we can go over it later.”

Faced with an expression of such resolve, how could he disobey? He rubbed his neck and mumbled his acquiescence, turning and ambling back to his bed—pausing when he noticed that she had begun to strip the outer layer of her attire. “El?” Dimitri watched her fold her jacket and step out of her heeled boots. “What—,”

She shushed him and shooed him into the bed, and it became apparent what she meant to do as she drove him to one side. The woman intended on joining him. “Do not gawp at me so—I can do nothing else if not give you company. Just go to sleep.” It was endearing, the soft red that painted her face, the way with which she attempted to hide her evident care for him. “I will make sure that no one else disturbs you.”

He allowed her to pull him down, and decided that it would not hurt to do as she had suggested. The man sighed and settled in, resting his head in the crook of her neck. A short moment later, her hands carded through his hair in a soothing manner.

Undoubtedly, enveloped in such comfort, in such pleasant company, finding slumber would be no challenge at all. 

And the last that he recalled pondering was that she smelled wonderful. The faint scent of lilacs.

~~~~~~

When next he opened his eyes, he found that he felt much more rested. His body still ached and his throat was still rather sore—but to less a degree than when he had first wakened prior. A yawn split his lips and he carefully rose—going still when a faint mumble below him drifted into his ears.

With a rather astonished gaze, he looked down and found that he was not alone in his bed, but that a familiar, small form was curled almost completely around him. A stream of snowy hair sprawled across his pillow. 

He blinked, relaxing once he realized that she had been there to help him sleep. But wait—did she not have other classes? Carefully, the man reached over and took the phone off the table, glancing at the time. 

Most certainly, if she had—she had missed them. It was well after noon. 

Dimitri sighed quietly and decided to risk her displeasure, presuming that she would be miffed more by having fallen asleep herself. He shook her until her eyes fluttered open and a lavender gaze rose to meet with his.  
She did look rather discontent, and sounded so too as she snapped, “What?” 

“Your classes, El…” He offered a rueful smile and showed her the time. The woman peered at it a moment, and he had expected that she would have jolted upward and begun to scurry about in a panic, declaring that she had spent too long with him. 

But no such violent reaction occurred. Instead, she merely stared, and stared, and after a moment, yawned and lowered herself once more. “Dimitri, come back here.” She mumbled sleepily, her hand groping for his head in an effort to pull him down as well. 

Well…if she was so unconcerned, then he supposed he had no qualms either. In fact, he gladly returned to the warmth of her embrace, wondering if every illness henceforth would be treated with such gentle pleasure. He would certainly not mind if it were so—not that he wanted to be sick often. It was still preferable to be in a state of health.

There were a variety of activities that were unadvised whilst under the weather…

Alas, he would regain his strength soon. But for now, the man was content to cuddle further with his lover, and bask in the comfort of her presence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Needed to write something soft; been having a difficult time recently. Man, I am so ready for next week and the four-five days off. I crave it.
> 
> Ah, well, everything'll be ok. Writing's a good distraction. Makes me happy, makes ya'll happy (I hope?) So I'll continue to write. 
> 
> I have a mighty need to write a certain beauty/beast AU that's been floating around my head all day, and I'm pondering whether to make that a long one-shot or a multi-chapter fic. We'll see I suppose.


	14. Juxtaposition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The cold of winter, the warmth of love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really really really want it to snow.

What frigid wasteland had she wakened to?

That was the first thought that skittered through her dazed mind as her squealing roommate dragged her from the comfort of her bed and pointed eagerly at the window, the blinds pulled aside. 

Still addled by the want of sleep, the woman merely stared, trying to comprehend what on earth she was looking at. By all means—everything was simply—white. Pure white. Had the world vanished whilst she had slumbered away peaceably? Certainly not—that was outrageous. Still, it was a sight she was unequivocally unaccustomed to. 

Even while the normally reserved and timid Bernadetta scurried about the room in search of garments, the silver-haired woman remained rooted in place, staring into the abyss of bright nothingness. Slowly, a sinking dread began to build in her gut, and she swallowed thickly.

Sothis be cursed. It had snowed, she realized—that was snow—thick and deep—and saints above—it was still snowing. Yes, as the blur faded from her vision, it became clear that brilliant white flakes were still whizzing past the window and adding layer upon layer over the already significant blanket.

It had not snowed the year prior, nor even afore. No—it had not snowed since she had begun attending the university, and most certainly had never snowed at home. When was the last time she had even beheld the cold nuisance? Truthfully she could not recall whether she had ever even seen the stuff herself. 

“Um—Edelgard?” A meek voice broke her rumination and the weary woman turned to find her roommate pointing to something at the bedside table. “Your phone is vibrating.” The purple-haired girl was swaddled in layers, seemingly quite enthusiastic about the sudden storm. 

She managed to mumble her gratitude and padded back to the bed, flopping atop the mattress in a state of bewilderment. Gingerly she extended her hand and groped the table in search of the sleek device. A missed call—from Hubert it seemed. With a sigh, she returned it, waiting dolefully for the response.

No more than a moment. His voice greeted her, grim as ever. The woman stifled a yawn, pressing the back of her hand to her mouth. “What is it?” She murmured, still rather tired and wishing to curl back under her blankets. 

A pause, and then a terse reply. “Your flight.” The voice crackled slightly, poor connection, it seemed. “—cancelled.”

At that, she jolted upward, her heart pounding against her ribs. “What?” She breathed, her eyes widening. “What do you mean?” The woman gripped the blanket, her eyes straying to the window again, watching the flakes dance furiously outside. 

“The weather—too dangerous to fly.” Some fuzz again, but she heard enough to comprehend that her travel plan had been thwarted. It seemed that she would not be returning home this year. “Forgive me, I did attempt to reason with them.”

She breathed a quiet, dejected laugh and shook her head, lowering her gaze and staring forlornly at the floor. “No—there is nothing to be done.” She bit her lip and sighed, raking a hand through tangled silvery hair. “Thank you for alerting me, Hubert.” With a brief farewell, the man hung up and left her in silence, the phone still pressed to her ear.

After a moment, she lowered her hand and tossed the device atop the table, laying back and resting an arm over her forehead. In truth, she did not cherish the thought of going home so badly—but it was just nice to be away from campus, if only for a week. And there, there was no snow—no cold. Winter was mild and had never caused any inconveniences. 

Perhaps it did snow here, but she had simply always left before it had arrived. Regardless, it had snowed this year, particularly hard as well. 

She did not know what to make of the situation—whether to be disappointed or relieved. At the very least, she did not have to meet her uncle. On the other hand, was she to be cooped in her dorms for the entire break? Two weeks of moping in the same tired dormitory—because she decidedly did not want to venture out and freeze herself half to death in that ocean of white. No, not in the least did that sound appealing. 

But…necessity dictated that she would have to leave the dormitory at least once or twice. Especially if she wanted to see her lover—who, she realized, was probably elated by the sudden overnight appearance of this frigid stuff. 

Well of course he would be—Dimitri was born and raised in the northern region. As cold as it was there, this was probably nothing if not a familiar comfort. Admittedly…the thought of seeing his smiling face, reddened by the cold, was an endearing one. Endearing enough to draw her from the warmth of her bed and blankets? Difficult to say.

The woman sighed and decided to rise, seeing no reason to attempt to fall back asleep, she pulled the blankets off her bed and coiled them around herself, waddling back to the window. She leaned against the pane and merely watched the swirling storm and the endless sea of white. 

It was like someone had stretched a swath of wool across the entire campus—but nowhere near as warm. A sigh fluttered from her lips and she rested her forehead against the glass, rather disappointed. Yes, she supposed she was slightly disappointed. She simply did not like the cold. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Raucous shouts and cheers had driven the slumber from his mind and forced his lids to drift apart. 

Tiredly, he stared at the ceiling above him—a dull grey in color, not very interesting, to say the least. He had heard Sylvain, assuredly—no one else would make such noise so early in the morning as he, but others had joined in the uproar. 

After a moment, the sound of thumping drifted outside the door—farther, then closer, louder. The man sighed and dragged a hand down his face, wondering what cause there was for such elation so early in the day? 

With some measure of effort, he turned his head and peered through bleary half-lidded eyes at the figure opposite him. His roommate was still unmoving in his own bed, perhaps unperturbed by the noise outside their room. 

And suddenly, their door burst open—and it was just who he had been expecting. A red-haired man stood in the doorway, grinning. “Get up—look outside!” With another whoop of joy, the ginger turned and bolted elsewhere, shouting the same—telling others to rise and glance outdoors.

Dimitri frowned, but lamely pushed himself up, throwing off the heated covers. A sigh dropped from his lips and he rose heavily, lumbering to the window. With a yawn, he pulled open the blinds and did as his friend had bid him. 

“Close the fucking blinds.” A wrathful voice bid him as soon as he had done so.

But he was far too entranced by the sight presented before him to pay any heed to the irritable man behind him. The sleep seemed to depart within moments and in its place was a childish delight. 

A wondrous beauty unfolded before his vision—the undisturbed swath of pristine purity. It was as fantastical as he remembered from his childhood, from memories of home. There had always been something so…magical about winter, about seeing the first few flakes drifting from the darkened skies. 

And so it was now—the sprawling field of fresh snow. It seemed that it was still snowing—flickers of dancing flakes twirling past the panes of glass. His friend’s excitement was warranted, in his mind. He felt the same juvenile mirth swelling in his own chest. 

He had not seen a white winter since having left home—and he had not realized how sorely he had missed the sight. 

A sudden surge of childhood recollections stirred warmth in his heart and a smile dragged the corners of his mouth upwards. Oh how wonderful had those days been—frolicking through the snow-laden scape, throwing wads of frozen snow, building whatever creatures came to youthful imaginative minds. 

What a time it had been—the innocent days of youth, no troubles to burden their dreams. 

“Can you close the fucking blinds!” 

This time, his roommate had pushed himself up—his dark hair disheveled and hanging about his face. His angry eyes glared through a curtain of black. Ah, right. He supposed that the light was shining directly onto the man’s face. 

Dimitri cleared his throat and stepped away from the window, doing as the disgruntled man had so crudely requested. “Ah—good morning.” His lips quirked into a wry smile and he ran his hand through his hair, watching with amusement as his friend grumbled another curse and tersely turned over and settled back in.

Well…

Now that he was awake, he supposed there was no cause in trying to close his eyes again. He did want to get outside, rediscover the joys of his home. It sounded as though the rest of his house was in concurrence, if the boisterous noise was anything to go by. Altogether, it seemed as though their break was coming to a magnificent start.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was well into the afternoon before anyone had deigned to remember her existence. 

Of course she could hardly complain, she had spent the morning in comfortable idleness and with no disruption. That peace could not last, however, as soon enough, someone was bursting through her door. 

“Edie!” A familiar voice shrieked, and her eyes traveled up the meet those of a hazel-haired woman. “You’re still here?” Dorothea seemed surprised, but no less pleased to see her. 

Edelgard plucked the headphones from her ears and blinked, unfurling herself from her slumped posture. “Oh—yes.” She coughed quietly, realizing that she had not even bothered to dress herself for the day. Well, she had not been expecting, or intending on leaving the dorm today. 

The woman, her cheeks flushed and her lips curled into a dazzling smile, let herself in. “We all thought you were flying out.” She shook herself out and droplets scattered. So, the woman had been outside as well, no doubt reveling in the icy environment.

The woman shrugged, pulling the blanket further up her shoulders. “The flight was cancelled.” She drawled, still a tinge embittered by the fact. 

“And you’ve just been sulking in here?” Her friend seemed aghast, as though it was incomprehensible that she would prefer quiet and warmth over the frigid weather out there. 

Edelgard frowned and glanced at her laptop screen; she had been simply browsing the internet. “Where else am I supposed to be?” She was not someone accustomed to cold climates, more definitively, snow. And neither was Dorothea, she supposed—and yet the woman had seemingly been enjoying the wintry development. 

The woman raised a brow and looked towards the window. “Oh, I don’t know…” She shook her head and clicked her tongue. “How about supporting your boyfriend as he valiantly takes on an entire army, all on his own.” The woman sighed dreamily, smiling.

“What are you talking about?” She sighed, her shoulders sagging. Was that supposed to have been some sort of metaphor?

Dorothea chuckled and pointed to the window. “Big, big snowball fight. I think everyone was teaming against him—at least when I left. Poor guy.” She added forlornly, pressing a hand to her heart as though it was simply the most devastating incident.

The woman merely scoffed, knowing well that Dimitri could handle himself. “How foolish.” If she were to join him, she would probably be a hindrance more than anything. “He does not need my help.” Edelgard tossed a pointed glance at her friend and returned to her leisurely task.

“Yeah, you’re probably right.” The songstress hummed, tapping a finger against her chin. “He did take Ferdi out with one ball, so…” That might have been a concerning thing to hear, but the woman said it laughingly. Well, not so astonishing—the pair did not have the best of relations. “But I don’t think he knows you’re still around. Not going to tell him?”

Oh—she had forgotten about that. 

Edelgard blinked, realizing that the woman was correct. She had not yet told Dimitri that she had not flown back home. Rather thoughtless of her, seeing as how morose he had been when she had declared to him that she was intending on departing during break. And he had given her a thorough farewell two nights ago—from which she still sported numerous…marks. 

“I should.” She murmured, both to herself and to the woman intruding upon her peace. “I will, in fact.” 

Dorothea gasped and clapped her hands delightedly, squealing. “Ooh—how about a cute cuddle date?”

Was she to take advice from the songstress regarding such matters? 

But the woman did not give any heed to her sigh and went on detailing a rather…well, appealing evening. “A warm fire, blankets, hot cocoa—just sitting together, watching the snow fall as night descends.” The woman sighed dreamily, and it seemed that even her cheeks had grown a little pink. Was there someone on the woman’s mind as well?

Edelgard cleared her throat and shifted on her bed. “Is that all?”

“Oh Edie, you’ve got to come out—at least for a little bit!” Her friend insisted, briskly stepping forward and pulling the blankets off her bare shoulders. “It’s amazing out there!”

She doubted that to be true and doubly resisted the woman’s tugs. Edelgard frowned and tried to evade the grappling hand, not at all wishing to douse herself in frozen water as the rest of them desired to do. “No, thank you.” She grit out, feeling much like a reluctant cat being dragged into a bathtub. “I am quite content here.”

“Mhm, you sure are. How unfortunate.” With a devilish grin, her friend gave a forceful pull and succeeded in getting her off the bed. She fell ungracefully, a cry splitting her lips. “Now, get dressed.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He was thoroughly wet by the time the—it was not an exaggeration to say—all-out war had reached its climax. But the sodden clothing and creeping chill did not dampen his spirits in the slightest. No, in fact he, and most everyone else was laughing and smiling.

Ah, how he had missed such frivolity. 

He would dare say that it had been a magnificent start to their winter break; the perfect relief after a week of grueling finals. They had been given a chance to vent the built up stress and it seemed that all had needed it.

The man sighed in contentedness and ran a gloved hand through dampened golden hair, wishing for a moment that Edelgard had been present. A pang of faint disappointment swelled in his chest, but he quickly pushed the feeling away. The woman was most likely enjoying the mild climate of her home country.

Deciding that he needed to both find something to quell the growing hunger in his stomach and warm up, the man turned around and made to head for his house dorm. 

“Wait—!” Someone’s voice stopped him before he could take two steps. 

With no small measure of inquisitiveness, he turned his head and watched as two figures stumbled across the snowy field, both bundled in layers of garments. The voice seemed familiar enough, but he could not immediately place who it had been that had called for his attention.

After a moment, the first woman jogged before him—Dorothea, he found her to be. The songstress grinned and straightened her clothing. “Glad to have caught you.” 

He raised a brow, curious as to why the woman had sought him out. It was uncommon of her to do so. “Yes, I was just about to return to my dormitory.” Dimitri cleared his throat quietly and reached up to adjust his scarf—the material soggy, weighted with melted snow. His eyes strayed to the side as the other figure trudged closer, and they widened when it became apparent just who it was. “El?” 

Astonishment colored his tone, and that sound of his voice, the second woman raised her head. There was barely any of her countenance to be seen, so well swaddled with cloth was she. A thick red hat was pulled well over her ears, a scarf tugged to the tip of her nose. But her height and eyes were as well a marker as any. 

“Isn’t she cute in all that?” Dorothea cooed, to her friend’s chagrin. Edelgard made it to their vicinity and pulled down her scarf to scowl at the hazel-haired woman. “Someone had to pull her out of her room.”

With an impish grin and a wink at him, the woman pat his shoulder and took her leave, and the two of them were left in solitude. The other students had all fled to the warmth and comfort of their rooms by then. 

“You look rather…well.” It was though a different word had touched her tongue at first, but she quickly amended it. The woman pulled her scarf up again and lowered her eyes, abashed. 

“El—,” He blinked, startled by her presence. “You were—you told me you were going away over break.” 

She nodded, rubbing her hands together, looking anywhere but at his eyes. “I,” The woman coughed faintly and took a breath. “Yes, that was the plan.” After a moment, she shook her head and raised her gaze to meet his own. “My flight was cancelled. I happen to be grounded now, what with this foul weather.” She grumbled, evidently displeased by the ceaseless torrent of flakes. 

It was amusing, seeing her displeasure with the woes of winter. “I see. I am sorry.” The cold was starting to creep a little deeper and he shivered. In his hurry to enjoy the unexpected weather, he had not dressed as warmly as common sense would dictate.   
“Do not lie to me; I know you are not.” She quipped, a slight humor dancing in her lilac eyes. 

A chuckle dripped from his lips and he rubbed the back of his neck. “Well, I suppose not. I must admit that I am rather…happy, selfish though that may be.” It was selfish, but he was glad that she had remained. Her presence had become rather permanent in his life, and he had not been quite ready to part with her for what had seemed so long a time. 

The woman hummed, her eyes narrowing as she swept her gaze over his figure. “Are you not cold?” She inquired with a raised brow, perhaps astonished by his resilience.

He shrugged, just a little chilled. It was hardly enough to perturb him though. “Rather, hungry, not cold.” The man smiled sheepishly at the disbelief that flickered across her face, or, what of it was visible. “And you?”

“Oh, you know,” Her voice was rather steely as she huddled closer together. “Absolutely lovely.” Her disdain for the cold was more than apparent, and all too entertaining for him. She was shivering even beneath all the layers she had donned. 

“Shall we?” He supposed he would ease her suffering some. Well…there was still something he wished to do. The man looked perfectly innocuous as the woman declared her assent, turning on her heels and making her way back to her house. For the better—Felix was most certainly in his room. 

He waited until she was at a sufficient distance, then quickly bend and scooped a wad of fresh snow, packing it until it was a firm facsimile of a ball. With a boyish smirk, he aimed, and released, watching as the white projectile whizzed through the air and found its target. Square on her back. 

The woman yelped, startled, and whirled around, seemingly angered as she swept a hand over the area he had assaulted. “Excuse me?” Her cheeks were flushed, he saw as the scarf fell looser. 

The man cleared his throat and bent at the waist, unable to keep from smiling. “My deepest apologies. I could not resist.” The irritation did not leave her eyes, in fact, it seemed to only grow. “Feel free to exact your vengeance upon me.” 

“Oh, I mean to.” She growled, lifting a gloved finger and beckoning him closer. Obediently, he stomped through the growing layers of snow and stopped before her, looking down at her enraged countenance. Before he could so much as open his mouth to speak, he was met with a faceful of powdery, cold substance. 

The man sputtered, taken aback by the sudden mouthful of frigid snow. He wiped at his face, frowning at the woman, who in turn looked rather satisfied. Yet another devilish idea crept into his skull as he caught sight of an untouched mound of snow. “Very well then.” He feigned resignation until he saw that she had relaxed her guard. A wicked smile curled his lips.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

She had not truly been angry at him, but it had been entertaining to act so. Even more so to thrust an armful of snow at him. Thus she was not at all expecting the man to enact his own revenge against her. 

When he stepped forward and knocked her legs out from under her, a sharp gasped escaped her lips—but she did not fall. His arms encircled her and she found herself hefted against a firm chest. She felt him stride forward, but was not given the chance to inquire as to what he meant to do.

Because he dropped her into a heaping mound of snow. 

A shriek ripped from her throat as the powdery stuff found its way down her coat and trickled down her back, enveloping her completely. 

She heard him laughing as she surfaced, bounding up almost as quickly as she had fallen, this time just a tad more aggravated. “Now really.” Edelgard hissed through chattering teeth, shivering as she tried to dust the snow from—well, it was covering every inch of her. “How juvenile.”

“I will make no effort to deny that.” The man looked not the least repentant as she struggled. His azure eyes danced with mirth, and the sight of his smiling face eased her ire a little. “Think of it this way—now that you are sufficiently cold, we can share the shower.”

“I was thinking a bath.” She grumbled, welcome to the idea herself. Dorothea’s prior suggestions started to seem even more enticing, and suddenly, the thought of her cancelled flight was all but inconsequential. Regardless, she did not want to remain outside any longer than she needed to. Her clothing was already growing damp, chilled against her skin. “Would you be so kind?” She sighed and reached for him, and with a chuckle the man acquiesced, helping her out of the rather deep hole she had made.

“Is your dormitory unoccupied?” He asked as they began to make their way back in the direction of the eagle house. She watched as he raised his eyes heavenward, watching the azure orbs flick back and forth, following the spinning flakes. 

She hummed, not entirely sure. “I assume so.” Bernadetta had vanished somewhere, whether or not she would return soon remained unknown. If not, well, they could find somewhere else to indulge in a private moment. 

“I hope you would allow me to dry my garments.” The man unraveled his scarf—unsurprisingly a vibrant blue. “Most everything is rather wet.” He added with a frown, and she could not help but scoff.

“Assuredly, if what I had been told is true. You took on the entire school, it seems.” An exaggeration, she knew—but it was an amusing thought.

And the man shook his head, as expected. “Hardly. Not near so many people as that joined in the game.” He pushed aside a wad of dampened hair, smiling at her. “It would have been heartening to have you at my side.”

“I think not.” Edelgard refused immediately. “I have absolutely no desire to earn so many bruises. I think the one you threw will ache for a few days.” The woman grumbled, recalling how hard he had thrown it—probably unintentionally. It was fortunate that her coat was thick enough to have dulled the impact some, otherwise it would have been an agonizing experience. She had come to realize that Dimitri often managed to forget his own strength.

The man laughed as he stepped forward and pulled open the door to her house, following her inside. “Even as a spectator, your support would have bolstered me.” As charming as ever, he was. He smiled at the passing students, well-liked by near all of them by now. It was quiet, more so than usual, to her relief. Perhaps the weather had drained the boisterous energy.

The woman pulled her scarf away and glanced at her phone, fortunately unscathed despite the earlier incident. She decided that it could not hurt to alert her roommate as to Dimitri’s presence. And so she typed out a brief message as they trudged up the stairs. 

“I still have a pair of your sweats here.” She murmured distractedly as a reply arrived—a confirmation that the woman would not intrude until, by her words, the coast was clear. “But I do not think that you will fit into any of my shirts.” Edelgard teased, putting the device away. 

The man raised a brow at her, already unbuttoning his rather light coat. “Indeed not.” He followed her into her dormitory room, sighing as he relieved himself of the outer garment. She saw that he was wearing nothing but a simple long-sleeved shirt beneath, and she clicked her tongue disapprovingly.

“Come now—such attire can hardly be considered appropriate for such weather.” She frowned, collecting his coat, waiting as he pulled the shirt off himself. “Do you want to get sick?” 

He scoffed, more amused than anything. “I am well accustomed to this climate. You need not worry on my behalf.” 

“Fine then. Go warm up the shower while I toss these in the dryer.” A bath did sound nice, but was hardly an option here on campus grounds. Less so a bath shared with her lover. A brief shower would have to do, she supposed. 

She pulled the wet clothing off herself and added it to the pile, humming faintly as she did so. At least her shirt had remained relatively untouched. 

The woman hurried back down the stairs, eager to complete the task and join Dimitri in the shower. It was fortunate that there were so few students wandering about; the halls were empty. It seemed that snow was good for something then. There was only one other presence in the laundry room, but they paid no heed to her as she set her load, her own and Dimitri’s tangled together. 

And without delay, she rushed back up, still rather chilled after her mostly unwilling excursion. As soon as she had slipped into the room, she was tugging at her cold clothing, eager to delve under the warm spray—beneath which Dimitri had already settled. 

His trousers and shoes were set neatly on a stood, and her own soon followed. The woman spared no heed to the thought of her nakedness as she pulled the shower curtain aside and stepped inside the cramped space. 

A sigh of content slipped past her lips and her posture relaxed. Undoubtedly, this was a wonderful culmination to the earlier excitement. The woman wound her arms around her lover and rested her forehead against the planes of his back. He did not startle at her touch. “Did you bruise me?” She murmured, moving away and turning so that he might look. 

At the query, she felt his fingers brush aside her sodden hair and slide lightly down her spine to the middle of her back. A quiet breath, and the remorseful response. “Yes.” As she craned her neck to look at him, she saw that he did in fact look rather guilty and deemed it fact that he had forgotten how strong his throws could be. 

She sighed and shook her head, carefully turning in place and facing him, blinking water out of her eyes. Mist rose and hung in the air, clouding the space. He reminded her of a puppy sometimes, and now was another of those moments—so forlorn did he look, his eyes darkened with sorrow. A small smile tugged at her lips and she reached up to grip his chin, pulling him to her level. 

Without a word, she pressed her lips to his in an offer of silent forgiveness, and she was met with an enthusiastic response. Alas, she did not wish to drown under the stream of water, nor to slip on a bar of soap that by someone’s negligence might have been left behind. The woman pulled away and reached behind him to turn off the spray. 

“Cocoa?” She offered as she cautiously found her footing on the mat outside, glancing back as he followed after, trickles of water glistening down his chest. Too tempting—always, he was too tempting a sight. She forced her eyes away and pulled free two towels, giving one to him. 

“Please.” Came the reply, slightly muffled as he toweled his hair. 

Right—two cups of cocoa and then to bed, curling in the blankets. Nothing sounded as appealing at the moment. 

As such, she hurriedly wrapped the cloth around herself and led the way, assuming that he would have taken the clothing they had left behind. And he did, she found as they returned to her room, fortunately unseen by any prying eyes. “Make yourself comfortable. I will be back shortly.” Edelgard took no longer than a few moments to pull on some loose clothing, not fashionable in any way—not that it mattered presently. 

She had vanished before he had even begun to put on his sweats, once again hurrying down the stairs and to the kitchen. Her hair dripped through the thin fabric of her top, slightly chilly against her warmed skin. Grumbling, she paused by the sink and wrung out her hair, not having bothered to do so earlier. 

And she began to gather necessities—two mugs, the canister of powdered cocoa, some milk—that she would need to heat. Within moments, the stove was on and there was milk heating in a saucepan, and she remained beside it, tapping her fingers against her arm impatiently. 

She was almost surprised by how readily she had forgotten her previous irritation with her cancelled flight. Since having met with Dimitri, the thought had nary so much as crossed her mind. That was good, she supposed. Indeed it was. 

If she had left, then what? What would she be doing, so far from this place, alone while nearly everyone she knew remained here? Hubert would have been with her, yes, but Hubert was hardly a replacement for…well, Dimitri. He could hardly act as a suitable replacement for Dorothea. No, if she had flown out, undoubtedly the day would have passed slowly and in darker spirit. Her uncle would have been hounding her again of the future that she did not wish to think of. 

So perhaps this sudden snowstorm was a blessing. In that case, she supposed she should apologize to Sothis, the woman thought with a wry smile, checking the temperature of the milk. Finding it sufficiently warm, she began to pour out equal portions into the waiting mugs, getting cold again in her pair of shorts and tank-top. And of course, her hair was dripping cold water steadily across her back.

The woman scoured the cupboards briefly and found a bag of marshmallows, throwing a helping into both mugs. Deciding that they looked good enough, she carefully gripped them and began the trek back up, ready to cuddle under the blankets. 

Walking a little more cautiously than usual, it took a few moments longer, but alas, she returned to her destination. 

She found, upon entering, that he had done as she had bid him and made himself comfortable atop her bed, but when he saw her, he sat up. “Thank you.” He accepted the offering graciously and moved aside to give her ample space to sit. He held open the blanket as she clambered atop the mattress, careful not to spill her beverage. “It is unfortunate that we cannot see the window at this angle.”

She scoffed quietly and settled into his side, his chest still bare—as his shirt and coat were both drying. “What is there to see? It all looks white.” The woman grumbled, once again recalling her friend’s imaginative scenario. Her lips pressed together as she thought. “But maybe…at night.” If she recalled correctly, there was a room on the first floor with a hearth inside. And—numerous large windows, and a couch. There was no reason for it to be occupied at night.

She raised her head and looked at him, feeling a bit foolish, and yet also admittedly excited by the prospect. “Would you join me later?”

His smile spoke well enough, but the man nodded. “Of course.” The man leaned closer and pressed his lips to her forehead in a gentle, loving manner, and her heart seemed to stutter. “Maybe then you will understand the true beauty of winter.” 

The woman scoffed and halfheartedly slapped his chest, but truly, she felt warm—warmer than ever despite the frigid world outside. And she found herself desiring that this warmth would never fade.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did I mention, I want it to snow? I love snow. 
> 
> But that's unrelated. I've had this little ficlet bouncing around my head for a while now, and finally I've got it out. Woot. Hmmm, what to write next...aside, from the next chapter of Cursed, that is. (And the formal report I have to staring working on for chem....but hey, dead week is still like two weeks away...?)
> 
> I hope there aren't any drastic typos, I tend to write at night when my brain is only half functioning/right around when it starts to shut down. Enjoy!


	15. Sweet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A date at last.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my goodness, Merry Belated Christmas and an Early Happy New Year!
> 
> I had not meant to take an abrupt hiatus, but here we are. I think I got a little burned out and ended up taking a longer break than I had meant to, but I swear I'll finish what I started (Cue dramatic Darth Vader music)
> 
> Besides, there's another chapter I've been excited to write.

It had not been so long a time since the beginning of what could be called their ‘steady’ relationship.

Or…whatever people chose to call such matters. 

She was not completely at ease with it yet. No, not quite. Of course it was impossible to deny her attraction any longer; she had already confessed it, and she had accepted his affections for her. Indeed, he had found the time to chase her down and force the admission of her feelings in the midst of a horrendous deluge.

And now here they were, some weeks later, still acting like a pair of barely coherent fools—love-struck adolescents. Well, sometimes. When they met to study and the wave of focus took hold, then the former comfort replaced the trepidation and they were able to speak like capable adults. 

Edelgard sighed and lifted her head, glancing at the man poring over some text, sitting across from her. His eyes were narrowed, his hair somewhat mussed from how frequently he had run his fingers through it. The man was evidently quite concentrated, all his attention fixed upon the subject of his study. That was not uncommon—he often fell into such stupors, which was fine. She did not disdain the moments of silence, and in fact enjoyed the opportunity to simply admire him.

And she could do that now—she could admire him and all his handsome features without fear nor shame. A perk, dare she say, of having accepted him as her…boyfriend? Her lips curved down at the thought. She did not like that word. It sounded juvenile. Lover—slightly archaic, perhaps illicit-sounding, but better, she deemed. 

But really, aside from their now more frequent study sessions and the addition of timid kisses and some handholding, there had been no…substantial development. Nothing that really hearkened to what she had seen in her roommate’s romance movies—no such fervent passions and ardent affections.

It was all very simple. Innocent. Almost naïve. Was this what dating was supposed to be like? She had not quite known what to expect, but she had at least expected a bit more than this. 

With a sigh, the woman lowered her pencil, not having been working anyway, and leaned her cheek against her fist. “Dimitri.” She spoke quietly, not wishing to disturb the peace of the library, but firmly enough to have caught his attention. 

After a moment, the man blinked and slowly raised his head, and a pair of azure eyes met with hers. A distracted hum rumbled from his throat and once again, he lifted his hand and combed it through his hair. He was often so endearing now—in nearly everything that he did. She was almost embarrassed to admit how frequently she took notice of inconsequential details, more so how attractive they were to her. 

The young woman cleared her throat and straightened her posture. “Does it feel like we are dating to you?” Best to be forthright, she supposed. She examined him as she inquired, watching his eyes, the way his brows furrowed slightly, as though he were perplexed.

“What?” He did look bewildered, and she could not fault him for that, it was a sudden query, and rather irrelevant to anything they had prior been speaking of. The young man raised his arms above his head and groaned quietly, looking rather weary. 

She decided not to take note on how his vest and shirt rode up his belly with the movement, despite her eyes having drifted there briefly. How was she to word this? To explain the thoughts that wracked her mind. The young woman frowned and tapped her chin, looking away. “Does this feel sufficient to you?” She asked again, wondering if she were the only one to feel this way. Perhaps he was happy—she would not put it past him. Dimitri was rather easy to please. 

“What do you mean?” His clear blue eyes were fixed upon her then, innocent and wide—almost boyish, a fine contrast to his masculine physique and countenance. He often reminded her of—

Her brows pinched together some. What did he remind her of? Why did his eyes seem familiar? For a brief moment, it seemed as though there was a vague recollection tugging at the core of her mind. It did not matter. She shooed the thought away and sighed, lowering her gaze to the table. “I mean, are you satisfied with calling this,” She gestured vaguely at them. “Dating?”

Edelgard glanced at him, inspecting his expression. He seemed more baffled than affronted, thankfully. “We do not really…do anything.” She clarified, resisting the urge to drum her fingers nervously against the table. Keeping her composure was, after all, one of her strongest points. “I hope you do not mind my saying…I think I expected something more.”

It was not to say at all that she was dissatisfied with him—no, he was wonderful, it was simply…the lack of anything truly romantic. 

The young man looked pensive for a moment, his brows drawn together as he pondered her words. “Well, to tell you the truth,” He began, almost seeming rather nervous for a moment. “I had not wanted to rush you, or this. I was not sure, still am not sure how much you would permit.”

It was undeniably thoughtful, and sweet of him to have had her so keenly in mind, however the extent of his caution was somewhat comical. She restrained a chuckle and allowed herself a faint smile. “I appreciate the sentiment, Dimitri, really. But I think we are both ready for something more substantial.” 

His eyes lit up suddenly and he reached into his pocket and took out his phone. She watched, curious, as he tapped through various screens, humming quietly. “Are you free this Saturday?

She supposed she was. There were no dire appointments that dictated her schedule that day, so far as she could remember. “I believe so.” Why the sudden inquiry? There was no small amount of curiosity sprouting in her chest as she regarded him and the bout of enthusiasm that had overcome him. 

Dimitri grinned and put his phone away, clearing his throat and attempting, poorly, to guise his smile some. “Then I hope you would spare me your time. You are correct, I think it is time that we went on a proper date. Off of campus.”

Her mouth was tugged upwards at the corners and she coughed to hide a growing smile. A foreign giddiness coiled in her gut. “About time.” She teased, glad to have something to look forward to at the end of the week. 

His eyes glinted mischievously and the man leaned his chin on a fist. “How do you feel about ice-skating?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

She should have rejected the idea when he had suggested it, the woman thought, rather surly now that she had been left behind to maneuver her own way across the slick surface.

Dimitri had quickly rediscovered his love for the sport and had taken to skating back and forth with an expert precision and an elegance that she could only dream of possessing. As it happens, as she glowered at his figure as he glided across the ice, she remained pressed to the wall of the rink, her fingers curled tightly around the bar. 

Her eyes followed him as he leapt into a graceful spin, grinning when he landed—and only then remembered that he was not alone. The man was slightly red-faced as he skated back to her, completely at ease on the foreign surface. 

“El?” He called out, gliding to a stop before her. “What is it?” As though he was ignorant of her dilemma. 

She huffed and raised her head to glare at him. “You know very well that I cannot do this.” She grumbled in return, watching the other occupants of the rink laugh and tumble about. She had tried to leave the wall, but she looked about as graceful as a newborn giraffe. 

The blond man was unperturbed by her vexation and laughed, taking her hand and coaxing her away from the railing and further onto the floor. She resisted as well as she could, stiffening when her balance began to fail. “Let go, El.” He uttered laughingly and tugged a little harder. “Trust me.” 

Oh, yes, trust the one that had simply vanished and left her to fend for herself. Edelgard rolled her eyes and scoffed, frowning at the man. “And if you simply decide to leave me again?” Her forgiveness would not come so easily then. She did not like being made a fool of, nor making a fool of herself, and that is exactly what would happen when he let go of her hands. 

“I am right here.” He assured her, his blue eyes gleaming with amusement. And upon looking at that innocuous face, she finally relented and placed her hand atop his other waiting palm. Her legs began to wobble as soon as he guided them into the center of the rink, struggling to keep her feet. “Steady—relax, El.” His words were soothing and gave her some small aid as she struggled to skate. She supposed it was no wonder that he was good at it, having grown up someplace cold. 

He drifted further and further away and the young woman grew panicked as his fingers began to slip from hers, desperately grappling for his hands—but the man simply drew them away and smiled. Immediately she began to flail, knowing she looked rather silly, but lost in her panic, she lost her footing completely and promptly fell onto her backside. 

The young woman groaned, raising her eyes towards the man that by no means looked concerned. In fact, it almost looked as though he was trying to hide his laughter. She made a sound of displeasure and began to attempt to push herself up. “Thank you.” Edelgard grumbled sardonically, poignantly ignoring the little girl that was gliding across the ice with ease to her left. 

No sooner had she gotten to her feet than did her legs begin to drift apart again, threatening to send her toppling to the cold, slippery ground once again. To her immense relief, the man took pity on her and offered her his hand. “You are not going to learn if you keep relying on me.” He advised with a raised brow, watching her attempt to steady herself once more. 

“I do not need to learn.” She snapped, irked by her inability to grasp the skill so quickly. “I will not be frequenting this establishment.” Besides, she had not come here to learn how to skate, she had come here to spend time with him. Edelgard sighed and pulled his hand, tugging him closer. “How about you just shut up and guide me.”

He looked at her, slightly surprised, but after a moment, nodded. Dimitri enclosed her hand within his and offered her a warm smile. And that was really all she wanted to see. She returned one of her own, though tentative and unsure at first. 

As he pulled her along, his grip tight on her hand, smoothly gliding across the ice—she managed to keep pace, mirroring his motions. Her tension eased and the act of skating was growing somewhat enjoyable, now that she was not constantly flailing about. As he sped up, she even laughed, enjoying the silliness of what they were doing. It felt good though, worrying about nothing for a time, short as it may be. 

Mindlessly skating around, their hands entwined whispering thoughtless things…it made her feel free again. Like a child. And she found that she enjoyed that quite a bit.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“What is this place?” Edelgard glanced at the rather cutesy shop that Dimitri had dragged her to. Post their ice-skating, he had declared that he had another location he had wanted to show her. So, here they were, standing before a pastel pink, what seemed to be, café—oh, and bakery? Her eyes widened inadvertently. 

“After you.” The blond pulled open the door and ushered her through. “If I am not mistaken, you enjoy sweets too?”

The woman bit her lip and nodded sheepishly, wondering from whom he had learned this information. Dorothea, probably. “I do.” She confessed, wandering after him as he strode towards the counter. An array of confections and sweet delights sprawled before her vision, tucked behind a glass display. Already, her mouth was watering—the cakes, the chocolates! Saint Seiros, this was hardly fair!

“Dimitri,” Edelgard took his arm and pulled him closer, pointing at a cute looking cake, a snowman dancing atop a blanket of white frosting. “Look at that.” Grinning like a fool, she eyed each and every dessert, wondering how on earth she was to pick one. 

He laughed and bent down to inspect the display himself. “Rather difficult to choose.” He mirrored her sentiment, holding his chin. “Though…I think I know what we should try first.”

The young woman glanced at him, surprised by the swiftness of his decision. Straightening, she cocked her head and glanced at the woman waiting behind the counter, smiling. “Alright. I suppose I shall defer to you this time.” She was curious, truthfully, as to what he had in mind. And she could always order something else after. 

“Two coffees and one of those sweet buns back there.” The man pointed to a large round pastry—one that was admittedly rather unassuming and plain in comparison to the other bright and colorful confections around it. It would not have been her first choice, but she trusted him. 

The woman took note of his order and cheerfully told them that it would be completed soon. Edelgard allowed the man to lead her to a table, and wordlessly sat across from him. She spent a moment simply looking about, taking in the light colors and tasteful décor. It was quaint and comfortable and smelled of sugar and roasting coffee beans. 

“You were doing well by the end.” Dimitri stated offhandedly, referring to their prior activity, leaning back in his seat, smiling faintly. 

Edelgard scoffed and tossed her hair, her arrogance external only—she was wondering how many bruises she would be sporting the following day. “Naturally. I would say I pick things up rather quickly.” It was partially true—not so much for skating. 

He ran a hand through tousled golden hair and laughed, no doubt recounting the numerous times she had fallen on her backside after having insisted on going faster. 

He gave no reply at first, moving back as the waitress interceded, announcing their order as she laid it down. The drinks were placed in front of each of them, and the plated pastry in the middle, two forks waiting at either side. “Enjoy!” She winked and moved away, hurrying to tend to the next customer, just having walked through the door. 

Edelgard took a fork and leaned closer to inspect the pastry. It was dusted with an ample amount of powdered sugar, the outside crisp and golden. “I am surprised at your choice.” She commented, carefully digging the utensil into the dough. 

He watched her keenly, perhaps waiting for her reaction, halfheartedly taking hold of the other fork. “I…it was a favorite of mine when I was younger.” His lips turned up at the corners at the expression of astonishment that crossed her face when she tried the pastry at last.

It was more than just dough—there was a delicious, sweet cream bursting inside, though the dough itself was warm, fresh, fluffy and just sweet enough as to pair well with the bitter coffee. It was vaguely…familiar, strangely. Had she had this before? Maybe she had, as a child. “Well, it tastes much better than it looked.” She raised her brows, pushing the plate towards him. 

Now that he had satisfied himself with her delight, he allowed himself to indulge, digging a heap out of the bun. “It is—I am of the opinion that the dish does not need to be elaborately presented in order to taste fantastic.”

She supposed she could not argue that. The young woman took another bite, sighing happily as the taste spread across her tongue. Yet, as she stuck her fork in again, she paused, glancing at her boyfriend. Well…it could not hurt. They were dating, and this was something that people did on dates. 

With a quiet breath, she lifted the fork and extended her hand, offering it to him. It took him a moment to notice, but it seemed that he was confused. “What?” His blue eyes were filled with bewilderment as he looked to her.

“I am feeding you.” She bit out, never having thought that she would utter those words in this life, nor having expected that she would willingly do something like this. So…cliché and juvenile. 

“El…” His lips curved into a familiar smile, and there seemed a faint dusting of pink across his cheeks.

She could not help but grow warmer beneath his gaze and quickly turned her eyes away, blushing despite herself. “Just—bite it.” The woman commanded, trying to reassume her stoic composure.

She heard him chuckle, then felt his fingers curl around her wrist and gently tug it closer. She looked back just as he closed his lips around the fork, meeting his gaze. For a moment, she merely stared back at him, almost astounded by the intimacy of this simple action. 

Before her face could burst into an irredeemable crimson, she looked away and withdrew her hand, her heart pattering a little faster. That was not the end of it though, she heard him call her name and was forced to glance up.

It seemed he wanted to reciprocate. Dimitri leaned his cheek on a fist, and with the other hand, extended his own fork, laden with a helping of dough and cream. There was warmth in his eyes, and a touch of humor. 

Edelgard swallowed her pride and leaned forward, gingerly parting her lips. He did not look away, but kept her gaze as she bit down around the sweet pastry. It was a greater serving than she had given him and filled her mouth for a moment. 

No sooner had she swallowed than a finger swept across her chin. “You have a little bit of cream on you.” She opened her mouth to thank him for noticing, and to inquire where, that she might wipe it off herself. But, the man leaned across the table and pressed his lips to hers. 

His tongue darted across her lip, startling her—and even before he had pulled away, her cheeks had grown a brazen scarlet.

Edelgard stared at him in disbelief, astonished that he would have been bold enough to have done something like that, but was not at all…vexed by his having done so. Dare she say, she was rather thrilled by it.

The man himself was slightly redder than before as well, despite having been the one to initiate. 

She gingerly touched her lips, clearing her throat. “Is it gone?”

Dimitri hummed, nodding. “Ah, yes.” There was a slight, endearing awkwardness to his actions. He refused to meet her eyes for a moment, perhaps composing himself. His blond locks drifted down his nose and he raised his hand to push them back into place, coughing quietly. “Did you enjoy today?”

The young woman could not stifle her smile, leaning her chin in her palm as she stared across the table. “I did.” She answered, completely truthfully. She had enjoyed the day she had spent with him. Every moment of it. “I think we should do this again.”

Only then did he raise his eyes, almost timidly, and smile at her, relieved. 

Her heart swelled and she felt almost giddy. Truly, he was so sweet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll take figure skater Dimitri please. 
> 
> I just want to enjoy my otp and not care about what others think, and that is exactly what I will do. 
> 
> Wonder what I'll write next...


	16. The Tentative Divergence of the Old and the New

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The End | The Beginning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lo and behold, I have not abandoned this work. I was just caught up in trying to get more chapters of Cursed out.
> 
> Well, so much for telling myself to devote my time solely to it, ahaha...I still wrote this. 
> 
> (This chapter details an occurrence that follows the events of a work posted separately; Jaded Beauty/Broken Beast)

“Edie,” A quiet voice drifted through the darkened room, pulling the somber woman from her trance. As though waking from a long slumber, like an old, unused machine suddenly groaning into function, her eyes fluttered, blinking. “It’s almost time.”

She had not even realized that she had delved so deeply into the damnable abyss of her own mind. Edelgard allowed a quiet breath to slip through her lips and raised a hand to pull back her disheveled white locks. “I must be tired.” She murmured, stepping away from the crib beside which she had been motionless. 

The woman turned her head slowly, glancing at the one that had intruded upon her elongated moment of introspection, finding that it was none other than her loyal friend. Dorothea offered her a lame smile and jerked her head, beckoning her from her place. 

Right. She could not remain rooted in place the entire evening. The woman closed her eyes briefly once more, then opened them to rest her gaze on the sleeping infant, unable to resist the urge to reach down and brush her finger along her cheek, her heart once again swelling with an instinctual love that she had never dared to dream that she would know. 

Quiet steps plodded across the carpeted floor, and within a moment, the songstress had come to stand beside her, carefully craning her neck to look over the walls of the crib. “Oh, Sothis…” Dorothea sighed, pressing a hand to her own chest. “She’s precious!” Had it not been absolutely imperative that they remain as close to silent as could be, the woman would surely have squealed. 

Edelgard permitted herself a soft smile, withdrawing her hand and stepping away reluctantly. She would much rather remain here, in truth, gazing at the beautiful little girl that she had carried for so long—and not without difficulty. She could not but agree with her friend; the child was precious—a treasure beyond fathomable comprehension to her. This sweet, innocent little girl was worth more to her than any of her wealth, her assets, her own life. 

That was precisely why she had decided to do this. 

“Come on, we still need to fix this mess.” Dorothea whispered, tugging at her unbound hair. “Let her sleep, mama.” The woman teased, taking her shoulder and near forcibly tugging her away from her daughter’s place of slumber. 

At last, the woman conceded and allowed her friend to guide her from the darkened nursery, sighing at the thought of what was yet to come. It was something that she had called for herself, but that made it no easier to do, nor any easier to want to attend. For one, she had not actually expected, well, either of them to have agreed to this. 

As they strode down the corridor, Edelgard caught sight of her stalwart companion awaiting her beside the door to her office. Upon seeing her, the man bent into a low bow. “Lady Edelgard.” Hubert greeted, as he always did, and joined her, falling into step at her other side. “They have both already arrived.” His gravelly voice was dripping with no small measure of disdain. He had, not at all surprisingly, been decidedly opposed to this idea of hers, and even now was less than pleased at her having gone through with it. 

“I see.” She remarked offhandedly, the smile that had graced her countenance replaced with a solemn resolve. “Then I expect that you will treat our guests with the reverence they are due, Hubert.” The woman added coldly, offering no space for him to object. After all, if Hubert affronted either of them before this conference had even been given the chance to begin… Well, surely he understood the importance of playing nice—at least this once. “Now go keep the peace. You know very well that our guests our not known for their…amicability.”

Though the grave-faced man sighed, he made no protest and merely nodded his head, falling out of step and briskly turning around, heading back towards the chamber in which she meant to hold this meeting. 

She, however, did not falter in her stride, already working to fix the disarray of her garments. As she walked, she pulled down the sleeves of her blouse and clasped together the buttons, her visage growing rather perplexed. She was not looking forward to this. In fact, one might even say that she was, well, anxious. One of them was highly volatile, the other was nearly impossible to discern, and she herself was stubborn and often inflexible. 

This could go stupendously, or—more likely, it could turn into a bloody brawl. The latter she wanted to avoid, as tremendous a trial it would likely be.

“How do you want it?” Dorothea asked upon entry to her quarters, the woman already pulling at the strands, even before she had been given the chance to sit down. “The usual?”

“Simple.” She replied flatly, smoothing down her blouse and picking up the crimson suit jacket she had left behind afore. “This cannot be a display of arrogance.” Edelgard reminded her friend as the woman hummed a lively tune and set about to combing through her hair, moving away briefly to pull on the jacket. 

As soon as she was able, Dorothea returned to her task, flitting back to the vanity to retrieve a hair tie. “Are you actually humbling yourself?” As though that was something monumental, the songstress gasped, pulling her hair into a tight tail, leaving a lock dangling beside her face. “Makeup?” She asked, though needlessly, as the woman merely shook her head.

“Is it that surprising?” Edelgard somewhat imperiously, acknowledging that that in itself would be yet another trial. To retain her patience in the presence of the fools with which she was to meet. Of all the people in the world, they two simply knew how to spark her ire—one more so than the other. “Never mind. Am I presentable?” Her voice was rather terse as her trepidation began to sweep through her heart. She took a moment to step towards the mirror, sending an appraising gaze down her own form. Nothing seemed out of place, nor were there any glaring and irredeemable stains—something that had become somewhat of a commonplace occurrence since the birth of her child. 

“You always are.” Dorothea sidled to her back and rested her hands on her shoulders, grinning at their reflections. “This look works too—scratch that, everything does.” The songstress chirped, as cheerful as ever. Actually, it seemed Dorothea was in what seemed to be a better mood than usual—if the liveliness in her verdant eyes meant anything. Yet what could have brightened her spirits so? 

Dismissing the thought, the woman straightened her posture and cleared her throat, reassuming her usual impassive expression. “Come. We have kept our guests waiting for far too long.”

The hazel-haired woman snickered, following after her as she turned on her heels and made for the door again, indeed seeming quite merry. “Hubie wouldn’t have killed them yet, right?” She quipped, knowing well that Hubert had less of a proclivity to entertain the theatrics that naturally arose when this particular group of people congregated. He had less patience for ‘nonsensical antics’, as he put, in general, and undoubtedly even this occasion would not be much of an exception. 

He would not have killed them, and it was foolish to believe that he would do something so reckless and rash. He could have, on the other hand, used his acerbic tongue to incite animosity, and while that was undeniably preferable to the former option, neither was it ideal for what was going to commence. 

The woman pinched the bridge of her nose and took a breath, hoping that he had retained the sense to restrain himself whilst she was absent. “Dorothea, prepare drinks.” She sighed, glancing at the woman trailing after her, utterly at ease. “Water for me.” 

With a coy smile, the songstress slipped away to do as requested, and Edelgard was left on her own, the door to the designated conference room just a few steps away. The sound of muffled voices thrummed against the wood, igniting a sort of livid ache in her head. There was no halting this now that it had begun. Whatever misgivings, doubts, or concerns still lingered, there was no choice but to carry on. 

If not for her own sake, then for Anna’s. No, it was all for her. How could she claim that any decision she had made had been for herself? 

Even if it meant facing…him again. Everything—she would push everything aside to secure this future. That was what mattered most. Nothing could possibly take precedence—no animosity, nor bitterness, nor resentment.

And so she stepped forward. 

As the door creaked open, the mellow chattering that had been drifting like a breeze suddenly ceased, and it seemed that every gaze at once had become fastened upon her. So be it. She was not unaccustomed to such attention, and she could bear it with ease. With ease. That was what she assured herself of as she strode inside, her chin held high, no hint of trepidation in her lavender eyes.

Her gaze swept the room, the familiarity muddled with a foreign presence. She did not often host guests in her personal home, wanted to keep the vile business as far from it as possible, but in this case, there had been no choice. It was a location that was undeniably more secure than any other venue she could have chosen, and what she meant to discuss could not by any means be made commonly known. 

One by one, she looked at the people that she had called into her asylum, a thorny cord constricting her heart further with every passing moment. The faces that she had once known, but now seemed so utterly alien. 

A woman with bright pink hair and a cocky smile, the unimpressed man standing beside her, unsurprisingly in a tailored suit, as purple as his lengthened hair. The one between them, lounging leisurely atop her luxurious couch, a carefree smile curling his lips, his hazel hair slicked back, a neatly trimmed beard lining his jaw, a costly golden shirt adorning his torso, its sleeves rolled to his elbows, the buttons undone partway down the chest. He was just as staggeringly confident as he had been when she had known him, and when she met his eyes, the man waggled his brows and offered her an infuriating wink.

And then the other side—and to match the leisurely attitude of those opposite them, each of their faces was stone. A familiar man leaning against the arm of the couch, his blue-black hair swept to the side and tied at the back, a surly scowl as ever gracing his visage. Behind stood the gentle giant, a scar across his face, his white hair shaved at both sides, a proper suit stretched across his body, his calm face indiscernible. 

At last, her gaze traveled to him. 

Edelgard managed to restrain the sudden breath that wished to tear free of her throat upon seeing him. She could not, however, still her heart as it set into a rapid stammer at the sight of him. He looked…much the same as he had a year prior, the last time she had been given the opportunity to behold him. His golden hair was only just slightly trimmed, but still hung loosely about his face, a black patch replaced the one that she had taken, new. He had even donned a suit for the occasion, a vividly blue dress-shirt tucked neatly beneath an ironed black jacket, black slacks that outlined the shape of his legs—crossed as he leaned against the back of the couch.

But at last, she met his gaze—and was met with utter winter. Anyone that had not known them might have believed that they were no more than bitter enemies for as little warmth as he peered at her with. 

She wondered if she would ever be able to look away. She had not come to be entranced. 

It was to her fortune that Dorothea entered at that moment, grinning brightly as she scurried in, a silver platter laden with numerous glasses and a bottle of her home’s finest wine. The woman only paused to hand her the glass of water that she had requested, then without a hint of unease, swept in and placed the tray atop the table between the couches. “Look at all these familiar faces!” She declared happily, unperturbed as she made her way back to stand at Edelgard’s side. “This feels so weird! I haven’t seen any of you since uni!” 

“Mhm!” The pink-haired woman agreed suddenly, pressing her hands to her chest in an exaggerated fashion. “There was no way I was missing this.” With a saccharine grin, she tossed her arm over her companion’s shoulder, and the man merely huffed irritably, unaffected.

A low whistle blew through the room and she glanced lower, meeting a pair of familiar, twinkling eyes. “What a reunion. How long’s it been?” Claude offered her a leisurely smirk and leaned forward to snatch a glass from the tray, picking up the bottle. “Now this is a real treat; you know how to treat your guests, huh?” He seemed suitably impressed as he inspected the label, and without delay, popped the cork and poured himself a serving.

She resisted the urge to fiddle with her hands, keeping them firmly placed at her sides. “Naturally.” To her relief, her voice rolled from her tongue smoothly, as though she was not at all vexed. Clearing her throat, Edelgard glanced at Hubert, noting the disdain plastered across his countenance. “I am pleased that you have all chosen to heed my request. Thank you.”

Waving a dismissive hand, the Von Riegan heir chucked and took a sip, raising his gaze to peer at the somber man across from him. “Yeah. It was just too tempting. So, where are all the hidden snipers?”

She heard Dorothea stifle a scoff behind her, and herself felt slightly irked. “I assure you that there are none.” Edelgard replied, maintaining her composure. “This is my private estate; I do not conduct unsavory business here. Thus,” She sighed and narrowed her eyes at the thus far silent trio, a faint frown marring her visage. “I hope to keep this conference civil.” 

“Weird.” The man spoke again, gently swirling the fluid in his glass. “And still, I’m tempted to think that this is spiked with something.” Though he said so, there was no such concern displayed across his countenance, in fact, he looked amused. 

Hubert strode to her side and glowered at the man in her stead, bristling. “Von Riegan, do take care in spouting baseless accusations.” It was the least he could say without growing irreparably angry, and his voice contained no small amount of scorn.

Claude, however, took no heed of the warning and took another draught, evidently not satisfied with ending his goading there. “Hey, everyone in this room knows that drugs are your forte.” The way in which it had been said, light and teasing, did not match the dangerous glint that cross the man’s eyes. The words themselves were a taunt, a provocation—and one that she would not permit to sway her. 

The man laughed again, unconcerned with her companion’s rising ire, and turned his gaze to the man across from him. “Well, well, look at you. Yeesh.” With a shake of his head, he swept his discerning gaze up and down his form, frowning faintly. “Looks like somebody needs some sleep. Or, actually, I wonder if I should be surprised, seeing as how everyone thinks you’re dead.”

Now that was almost impressively brazen. Hubert was less of a threat than the highly mercurial man that even she was wary of prodding. If it had been anyone else, she might have thought they had no instinct for self-preservation whatsoever, however, the man was Claude Von Riegan. Every word, every glance, every motion was calculated. And she too was wary of him. 

“I never really believed you died anyway. Though it sort of looks as though you’ve crawled out of a grave.” Making no effort to dull his words, he went on, but even so, his subtle barbs did not seem to have much of an effect—if any at all, upon the silent man. 

Regardless, he was testing her patience as well, seeing how far he could push and prod before one of them snapped. It was in vain. No matter how insistently he prodded at her, she would not give him the satisfaction of witnessing her unravel. Not now—not when everything was at stake. 

Edelgard glanced at Hubert and nodded her head, almost imperceptibly. The man consequently looked at their conversational guest and narrowed his eyes. “Riegan, your ability to run your mouth and say nothing of significance is as impressive as ever. However, we have not summoned you here to chatter of inconsequential things.”

“Then why are we here?” Snapped the sour-faced man, pushing from his place and fixing her with a venomous stare. “Or are we wasting our time? We aren’t stupid enough to believe that this isn’t a trap.”

“It isn’t.” Dorothea spoke in her stead, stepping forward, her countenance almost strangely hurt, and interestingly enough, the man that had spoken backed down, averting his gaze. “This isn’t just some social call—it wasn’t easy gathering everyone here today—and she’s taking a huge risk in doing this. This is the only place we’re certain no one can infiltrate.” The songstress declared resolutely, her gaze sliding sideward, and once she had finished her piece, she offered a somber nod.

Edelgard took that as her cue and sighed, folding her arms across her chest. “Right—I called you both here for a reason. Regardless of our past, whatever differences in ideologies have until now kept our paths from crossing…I—,” She paused, her eyes flicking away briefly, towards him—and he was staring back, his countenance void of feeling. Despite the painful twisting in her heart, she forced the words to tumble from her tongue. “I need your help.”

No one said a word for a moment, each taking her forthright request as they needed, pondering her plea. 

“Well, that’s surprising.” Claude spoke first again, skimming his finger along the rim of his glass, the smirk that had been thus far affixed to his face fading. “And really quite rich.” The bitter smile that touched at his lips did not match the cunning severity in his eyes. 

A huff broke the tense silence and the violet-haired man crinkled his nose, eyeing her disdainfully. “You have the gall to request aid? You cannot pretend to be ignorant of the difficulty you have posed for us—and that you yourself have refused Claude’s own requests for support before.”

She did not know Lorenz well, but it was apparent enough that his opinion of her was not favorable, and from his words, it was entirely understandable. She certainly was in a precarious position, on either end. 

“My apologies,” To her astonishment, the stoic giant behind Dimitri stirred, raising his chin and peering levelly across the room. “But I think it is hasty of you to begin stirring resentment. We have not been given any details as of yet as to what help is required.”

Edelgard found herself staring at the man, almost stunned to silence, but after realizing that she had said nothing, quickly shook her head and cleared her throat. “Dedue, was it?” She mustered a faint, grateful smile as he looked at her and curtly bowed his head. “Thank you.” Though assuredly it was not for any personal favor that he had done so. Right; none of them had any reason to offer support, nor to even listen. It was amazing enough that they had all acquiesced and arrived. 

“I am fully aware of the position I am in.” She said firmly, looking at each expectant, wary person in the room. “I know I have no right to ask anything of any of you, but I have no choice.”

“Get to the point.” Felix snapped, though immediately grew silent as Dorothea leveled a glower at him, huffing and crossing his arms instead. 

“We have a common enemy.” Edelgard announced, refusing to falter. “I want to get out. I need to get clean.” She refused to dirty her hands with her uncle’s nefarious plans any longer. If she had to destroy him to do so, then she would—and that would the last that she touched any filth of this sort again. 

Another low whistle, and Claude clicked his tongue, shaking his head. “Now that’s ambitious. You’re the one that neck-deep in this shit as it is. At least we’re still wading.” The man tipped back his glass and sighed, setting it back down on the table. There was little sympathy to be found in his keen gaze.

“I know—and that is why I need help. I cannot just leave—I will be a target the moment I take a step back.” She reasoned, biting her tongue to keep her swelling unease locked behind her façade of composure. 

“No kidding.” Hilda snickered unapologetically, moving around the couch to fall back onto the cushions beside Claude, yawning. She had not changed much at all. Raising a hand, the woman inspected her brightly painted nails. “It’s your uncle right? The big bad? Yeah, um, isn’t he like the only reason you have any power right now?”

Her brows twitched at the needle-like accuracy of the statement the girl had so offhandedly uttered. Yes; Arundel had been her greatest benefactor, her support—that is, until she had realized that he was ultimately only using her and her company for his own benefit. She was a disposable pawn and nothing more. 

“And it’s a huge organization.” Hilda resumed her abrasive tirade, all whilst looking not the slightest concerned. “We’ve been trying to hit them at their weak points for years you know, but they’re like icky little ants that just won’t go away. No matter how many you squash, there’s always more.” 

Edelgard took a breath, and made her decision. No going back. Not from here. “Then all you need to do is drown out their hill.”

“Easy to say.” Claude retorted, his easygoing charade evidently having come to and end. “We’ve been trying to find their base of operations, but they’re clever.”

“Neither do they talk.” Felix added brusquely, sneering at the hazel-haired man. “Beating them doesn’t work.”

Edelgard’s eyes instinctively fell to the silent man, recalling the violence that he was capable of. Witnessing it once had been enough. So even they could not force free the knowledge they required. Well, that was to her fortune then. She cleared her throat and toyed lightly with the lock of hair left free by her face. “I know where it is.” She declared calmly, and at once, she earned the attention of every person in that small room. “But, I do not have the power to deploy a full on assault myself. And that is why I need your help.” If they did not agree now, then she had nothing else. Nothing else to add. She bit her tongue and forced herself to appear unfazed, impervious; confident. Yet with every moment that no word was spoken, her uncertainty and desperation grew. 

“Why?”

It almost startled her—that gruff, deep voice, so unexpectedly had it come. He had said nary a word since she had first stepped foot into the room, and she had not been expecting him to speak at all. He was staring at her, his dull blue, one-eyed gaze peering blankly at her—through her, rather. As though he was creeping past her façade, past the walls she had built around her heart. 

Lowering her hands to her sides once again, the woman cleared her throat and held his gaze, resisting the urge to grimace. “Why what?” She asked coldly, pushing aside the complicated emotions that threatened to overwhelm her sanity. It was easier to think of him as a stranger. Much easier. Much safer. No attachment to her heart. But a pretense was a pretense, and willing those feelings away was easier said than done.

“Why the change of heart?” His voice seemed a low growl, likening him to the beast he had believed he had become.

The words stuck in her throat. Why? How could she possibly tell him that? How could she possibly tell any of them? Him most of all. And so she faltered, a foreign panic taking ahold of her body. She stepped back as though threatened, bumping into the woman behind her. Dorothea steadied her, undoubtedly concerned. After all, apart from the two at her side and the few that had been present to aid with the delivery—not a soul on this world knew of her daughter’s existence. And until the threat had been completely eliminated, she meant to keep it so.

“This is a waste of time.” Suddenly, the man rose, and the two that had come with him stirred as well. Dimitri did not even spare her a second glance as he made to depart—and a sudden surge of grief and despair washed through her chest. She could hardly control her own body as she released a strangled cry and stepped into his path.

“Wait, please.” Edelgard did not commonly beg. No—she never begged, never pleaded, never bowed her head before anyone. Yet it had always, always been this infernal man that had torn her composure to shreds and overturned the hidden contents of her heart into the open. She peered up at him, her heart ready to tear free of its confines.

He towered over her, unmoved, completely indifferent, and she could not fathom just why it felt so agonizing to have his cold gaze pinned upon her form. Had he truly lost so much of himself in the year that she had not seen him? That even the sliver of warmth she had known had faded to ash and blown away? 

“I will kill him myself.” The man snarled, his cobalt gaze sparking with life—only just for a moment. “I do not need anyone else to interfere.”

Despite the solemnity of his words, Claude laughed as though he had said something truly amusing. “Now that’s something. Interfere, you say, but as I remember—it’s been you, the wild card, bursting in on our operations and interfering with all my carefully thought out plans.” The man’s outwardly lenient gaze fell upon his back, but there was a definite hint of irritation that had furrowed his brow. 

Like a lion that had been prodded one too many times, the golden-headed man scowled and turned to face the one that had dared to provoke him, tensed, as though he truly meant to charge. 

Now she had truly been prepared to stop him, the command tingling at the tip of her tongue—enough; there was no need to act so uncivilized—and yet an interruption proceeded to do her work before she could but make a sound. She had entirely forgotten the possibility of it. 

Silence reigned throughout the room as a piercing wail drifted down the corridors, and Edelgard felt her chest go taut, forgot how to breathe for a moment. Her first thought, first instinct demanded that she go, race to the infant and cradle her in her arms, to assure herself that she was safe.

“Oh—!” Dorothea leapt into action before she could remember how to move, the woman offering the baffled guests a sheepish smile. “Um, Edie, I’ll go—don’t worry.” Squeezing her hand to offer some assurance, the songstress, hurried from the room. 

It seemed that everyone had gone still, not knowing what to say, nor what to think. And she—well, it took every bit of her discipline to refrain from pacing. She knew, of course she knew that no harm could have possibly come upon her child, but that did not stop the doubts from creeping in. Even the best kept secret could find its way to the light. 

The wailing drew on and on, and she could not calm down whilst it droned in her head—kept locked in a prolonged moment of utter suspense. 

Not until the door swung open once again and the wailing grew louder, and Dorothea waltzed back inside, cradling a despaired infant to her chest. The same somewhat sheepish smile remained plastered to her face as she hummed and rocked the little girl. 

Edelgard disregarded the loud gasp that streamed from Hilda’s lips, only able to give her attention to the crying child. She extended her hands, biting her tongue as Dorothea stepped towards her. 

“Hush now, mama’s here for you.” The woman lilted lovingly, passing the discontent girl to her mother, stepping away and folding her hands across her lap. It was only as Edelgard took the child and began to tenderly console her that the woman permitted her gaze to flick to a certain man, and the smile fell from her face. He was stone. Whether or not he had realized it yet, the man was utter stone—completely motionless, his gaze locked upon the woman and her child. And Dorothea could not help but worry. 

Her gaze drifted sideward and met with a pair of narrowed eyes. She watched Felix mouth a question. ‘What the hell’, he asked, and jerked his head towards the pair—and she could only bite her lip and shrug, mouthing a ‘sorry’ in return. Not even for him would she have divulged her friend’s greatest vulnerability.

Edelgard soothed her daughter, paying no heed to the guests that had seemed to become nothing more than lifelike mannequins. The piercing wails slowly dissipated into quiet, tired cries, and at last the woman could breathe, a sigh falling from her lips. And that meant that she could no longer pretend as though they were not there. 

She avoided his gaze, instead looking at the bewildered group of stags—choosing to look at the pink-haired woman, who had evidently grown enamored at first sight. “Now,” Edelgard began, her voice wavering unwittingly. “You know.” She glanced at her daughter’s sleeping face, unable to keep her face locked behind a mask of ambivalence any longer. “You asked why, well, this is why.” 

With great effort, she forced her gaze to meet his, swallowing thickly. She could not tell at all what he felt—he may as well have been carved from marble. “This is why. I have something I must protect, and I do not care what I have to do, but I will not let anyone touch her. I need to keep her safe, and I cannot do that until that filth and all of his fucking followers are rotting in their graves.” Her voice grew rigid, a churning wrath burning through her chest. “So I will beg, if I must.”

A strained silence descended over the room, and she remained stiff, uneasy, finding no solace but that which stemmed from the life bundled in her arms. Her one joy, her one precious love—innocent, unblemished. It was the first thing in her life that was truly, utterly pure—the only love that could surpass the boundaries of reason, the only blessed light that had come from this ceaseless abyss of darkness, death, and misery. 

Once again, it was the von Riegan heir that spoke first, shaking his head as he pushed out of his seat. “Of all the things, I can’t believe it. There was no way I could have predicted, well,” The man strolled up to her and leaned down, peering curiously at the little child nestled in her arms. “This.” She almost wanted to step away, to keep the girl out of his sight, but resisted the urge, steeling herself. “Consider me unequivocally stunned. I really don’t know what to say.” 

Hilda hurried to them, peeking over Claude’s shoulder, her face barely able to contain the utter adoration that was bubbling over. The woman pressed a hand to her mouth and released a muffled shriek. “Oh my gods!” She whispered, well, probably tried to whisper. “I have so many questions! Can I see?” The woman fluttered her lashes, her eyes wide like that of a puppy’s.

Edelgard felt her brows furrow, once again feeling the instinctive, possessive urge to hide her daughter away, as though that would keep her safe. With a sigh, she shifted her grip and raised a hand to pull down the cloth her daughter was swaddled in, and carefully, she tilted the girl towards the enamored woman. 

Like an overexcited schoolgirl, Hilda seemed barely able to restrain herself, cooing over the infant. “What’s the name?” She asked expectantly, gazing up with mirthful eyes, as though she had forgotten how cruelly she had attempted to dash her hopes earlier that evening. 

The woman sighed, glancing at her patient friend. Dorothea smiled and nodded, and she supposed that if the songstress deemed it alright, then there was little reason to fret. “Annaliese.” She murmured, all too aware of a certain gaze fixed upon her, unmoving and intense. In time. 

“That’s precious—oh! She’s waking up!” Hilda gasped, enthused as the girl’s eyes fluttered open once more, but then, her own eyes grew wide as a realization dawned. “Her eyes are so blue…and her hair is…” Without another word, the pink-haired woman turned and stared directly at the somber man behind them, her jaw dropping open.

Edelgard did not look up, could not. Yes, she knew it was quite obvious. Annaliese looked almost exactly like her father. There was no way to deny it if the inevitable question was raised. The woman turned and looked to her friend, beckoning her closer. “Take her back. This meeting is not finished.” 

It was as she prepared to hand the child over that the man spoke at last. His voice was like a bullet shot through a cavernous hall. “Wait.” 

Dorothea froze in place, her eyes flitting from her to him as though she did not know to whom to listen. Edelgard scowled and did not turn her head, even as she heard his steps thud closer. “Let me see—,”

“No.” She snarled, bristling as would a frightened feline. She did not want to look at his face; did not want to know what emotion, if any was displayed upon it. “Dorothea—,”

“El.” His voice sounded different, as though twisted with a vicious anguish—and while it twisted her own heart, she bolstered her uncertainty with vitriol, unable to control her own feelings—like a useless, hopeless child. She felt tears began to sting and swell in her eyes, felt a thickness in her throat—and she could not, would not cry before him. 

“You made your choice.” She retorted icily, meeting her friend’s concerned gaze. Dorothea was still hesitant, and the girl in her arms began to squirm. He had. He had made his choice that day, so what right had he now? None, she told herself again and again, the word swirling round her head—as though repeating it enough would make it true. None. None. None.

Dorothea took the infant, rocking her as she glanced between the pair, distressed herself. “I think you two need to talk. Now.” With a strained smile, she backed away. “I’ll hold onto her. Edie—go. I’ve watched you suffer enough.” The woman said this just loud enough for her ears alone, and though she did not want to admit it, her friend was right. This was a conversation long, long overdue. 

Without a word, Edelgard sent a scathing glance back, then strode from the room, hearing her friend reassure the rest of them, hearing Hilda once again begin to gush over Anna, and finally, hearing the steady thudding of a pair of feet trudging after her. 

She walked briskly down the corridor, barely even knowing where she was going. She should have been prepared for this, even if she had been sure that he would not have come. He had. Now what? What was she to do? 

Her aimless wandering was cut short as a hand took hold of her wrist and pulled her back, trapping her in place. “El,” He said again, but she was seething. It was far easier to be angry than to admit that her heart was tangled in a web of agony, than to admit that she had longed for him, that she had wanted to see him. That when he had left, he had torn a hole through her soul. “El, look at me.” 

“How dare you?” She snarled, pulling free of his grip, and he let her go, not attempting to restrain her. The woman whirled about to face him, and in doing so, finally looked at his face. Something broke within her, like glass splintering just before the fateful shatter. He looked…he looked like himself. Like the man she had known six years ago—the man that she had loved, the man that she had permitted herself to smile with. He looked like Dimitri. 

He had looked like this before—a year before, when they had met for only a night and she had been reminded that she, no matter how she tried to pretend, still loved him. 

“Well,” She spat, narrowing her eyes at him, her fingers balling into fists at her side. “What excuses are you going to make?” 

But her scathing words did not so much as draw a flinch from him. The man merely stared at her, his dull gaze filled with a new light, his stony countenance turned to flesh. “El, is she…mine?”

“Must you even ask?” The woman snarled, raising a hand to strike his chest, but before she could, his own rose and caught it. She could not utter one protest, was not given the chance. He tugged her forward and into his chest, and stumbling, she fell into his embrace. 

Why? Why was her heart so frail, so feeble, so utterly entangled with his? Why, even after all this time, could she return to his arms and feel as though there was no safer place? 

No longer could she stifle the tears that had been creeping to her eyes, sniffling as she gave in to the urge and wrapped her arms around him in return, gripping the fabric of his suit so desperately, as though he might vanish. Sobs wracked her chest, but she did not release them, silencing every breath that strained to escape her teeth. 

Oh, how she wished she could hate him. How she wished she could loathe him. How she wished to forget those beautiful, quiet days in which they had been nothing but young, unburdened and in love. How she wished to forget that she had abandoned him first. 

“You asshole.” She wept, not knowing now whether she was elated or still grievously angry. “Why did you leave?” Edelgard managed to grit out, uncaring that her tears were wetting the fabric of his shirt. It was the question she had wanted to ask since waking that morning and finding that he had left. 

“Edie!” Dorothea’s voice tumbled through the corridor, and the woman pushed away at once, hurrying around him as the songstress hurried towards her. “She’s fussy and there’s only so much that I can do.” With a sigh of exasperation, the hazel-haired woman offered her a weary smile and pressed the discontent child into her arms. Without giving her a moment to compose herself, nor to object—as now was the best of times, the woman was once again dashing away.

She hurried wiped her face as best she could with her shoulder, sniffling as she cradled her daughter, the infant making quiet noises as she squirmed. It seemed that her restlessness had been inherited; she too did not like remaining idle. A quiet laugh tumbled from her lips as Edelgard gazed at her child, her countenance softening. 

As something shifted at her back, she froze, reminded once again that she was not alone. With some hesitation, she raised her head, almost startling as she found the man leaning over her, his single eye wide and—filled with tears. “Dimitri…” She whispered, almost afraid to break the trance that had captured them both. “Are you—are you crying?” 

It was needless of her to ask. She watched, rapt, as a trickle slowly rolled its way down his cheek, and as though snapped from a daze, he backed away, raising an arm to swipe across his face. When he spoke, his voice was thick and strained, as though he was forcing himself back into a façade, just as she did. “I should not have come.”

No—no! Her lips parted as she took in his words. He had seen his daughter for the first time, and this was all he had to say? The man turned away, evidently ready to take his leave, and once again, anger surged through her heart. “Coward.” Edelgard seethed, knowing exactly what was going through his head. Just as before, she had seen it in his eye. Self-loathing. “You are a coward, Dimitri.”

He stopped, just as she had hoped, but did not turn around. 

“Fine then—go. Walk away.” Edelgard managed to say, wishing, hoping with all her soul that he would not. “But if you do, then do not come near me again. Leave me alone. And Anna,” She heaved a wavering breath, forcing herself to say the hideous words, the words that she did not want to say. “Anna will not know you. Her father will be dead.” 

Please, please turn around, she wanted to say, do not go, not again. 

“Good.”

She heard him say, his voice toneless, unfeeling. “Maybe…she can live happily that way. As far from me as possible.”

“Imbecilic buffoon!” She shouted, even before her mind had registered that she had done so. “How can you believe that? How can you possibly think that growing up fatherless would be for the better? Have we not suffered enough? Why are you trying to force your daughter to bear the same burden? Is it not about time that you grew out of your brooding and faced the reality?” The feelings that had lingered in her heart for so long came pouring free, and she did not even attempt to stifle them. “We are all broken, Dimitri—but running away, destroying yourself will not help. Look—!” She cried, holding up the quiet bundle in her arms; Anna had grown silent again, having concluded with her fit. “We—have a daughter, Dimitri.”

Making up her mind at last, the woman strode towards him and moved around to face him, and she pressed the child into his arms. “Look at her. She looks like you. She is yours—she is ours.” Edelgard insisted, nearly pleading with the obstinate fool. She just wanted him to wake up. “And she…as long as Arundel lives, she will not be safe.”

His countenance was tight, agonized, and she saw that he had only turned away so that she could not watch him weep. And he was weeping. His heart was as thoroughly broken as hers, so why did he refuse to mend it? Did he think himself so unworthy of it? Of love—of light? 

Yet, ever so slowly, carefully, as though she were the most fragile thing on their earth, the man extended his hands and took the sleeping child, his gaze not once straying from her tranquil little face. Edelgard relinquished her, watching the father meet his child, biting her own tongue to keep from weeping once again. “Look at her and tell me you want to go.” She whispered, clutching at her chest, feeling as though her heart might burst. 

She saw his lips tremble, saw his throat bob again and again, until at last, he bowed his head and released the sobs that had been swelling in his chest. That was all it took. She stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him, him and her daughter—her family. 

Her family. 

Whatever happened from then on…Edelgard was quite certain of one thing. She was not alone, as she had once believed, when she had still guarded her heart and displayed a façade. She was not alone, and this man—this foolish, loving, broken man—the man she loved, he would not leave her. They only needed to hold each other’s hands, no? As they had done before. 

This was a new start. A new beginning for them both—to leave behind the tattered past, the decay and misery and grief, and start anew.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so very, very tempted to call this the final chapter, to be honest. It does seem like fine place to end, but I'll think about it. Buuuuut don't be surprised if this gets marked as completed; I hope to write more Edelitri fics in the future too, so it'll be ok. 
> 
> I want to finish Cursed, and then maybe, perhaps, by chance, I might try working on a dystopian AU that I can't get out of my head, whether be it a one-shot or a longer fic.
> 
> Or maybe I'll take a break and let my brain learn how to write again.


	17. After

He really was not going to stop fidgeting, was he?

She bit back a sigh, closing her eyes briefly, and a small smile flittered past her lips. “Relax.” The woman murmured soothingly, her fingers deftly working at knotting a cobalt-blue tie around his neck. Over the past few minutes, he had tucked and untucked, and once more tucked his shirt into his trousers, fiddled with the buttons on his sleeves, smoothed his hands down his shirt as though to iron out wrinkles, and had repeatedly ran his fingers through his hair. 

In truth, it was rather comical to her to see the usually grave and stoic man so anxious. He had been calmer throughout the duration of the raid on Arundel’s headquarters—no, rather, he had been eager then. A frown marred her visage momentarily as she reminded herself that this man was…an aberrant of sorts. Well, she supposed it was to be expected that he was so uncharacteristically nervous now, considering that he had been living in isolation for the past few years. 

“Dimitri.” She chastised firmly, noting with displeasure that he had once again carded his fingers through his hair, consequently pulling it out of the short tail she had painstakingly tied it into. 

“I…” The man heaved a long sigh, and she watched as his throat bobbed. “I am sorry El. I cannot seem to settle down.” He lowered his hands to his sides, seemingly giving a fair effort at keeping them there.

She lifted her head and surveyed his expression, taking keen notice of how unusually pale he had grown. “It is one speech.” Edelgard assured him, ceasing to fiddle with his tie and instead running her fingers down the length of it. She permitted herself a moment to admire just how well the suit fit his form. “You know you can leave the questions to me.” She was admittedly far more accomplished than he presently at speaking publically, and truly she could not grudge him that. His was a complicated past—particularly the past few years of his life. 

But that was precisely why they had agreed to do this; to put the past behind them and focus on what had yet to pass. To live out a new future, a future that they would decide together. Right—this path…she no longer walked it alone. 

A soft pressure skimmed her cheek and the woman instinctively startled, her eyes shooting up to meet a single, inquisitive cobalt eye. The man tilted his head and regarded her quietly, tenderly running his knuckles down the length of her jaw. “Are you alright?”

She had to press her lips together to stifle the laugh that had wished to tumble from them. How amusing that he should ask her that when he was at present a bundle of frazzled nerves. Edelgard cleared her throat and forced her own countenance to remain unmoved as she reached up to take his wrist. “I dare say I am; far more so than you are.” The young woman allowed a quiet sigh to drip from her mouth as she lowered her head, staring distractedly at his collar. “I was merely contemplating.”   
The man said nothing, knowing that she would speak without his needing to prompt her to do so. He peered at her quietly, permitting her to run her fingers down his hand in an almost dazed fashion. 

“It is strange.” The woman remarked lightly, a gentle laugh following the softly spoken words, and she drew a line across his palm to fulfill her own tendency towards movement. “After everything that we have been through…it is truly unfathomable that we have come to the present—to this moment.” A forlorn smile tinged her lips and she curled her fingers around his hand—so large and warm and comforting, just as it always had been. So much and so little had changed. 

A quiet hum was the response she received. 

The young woman cleared her throat again, lightly shaking her head to rid herself of such solemn thoughts. She released his hand and gingerly reached up to push aside a lock of her own silvery hair. This was not the time to dwell upon that subject. “You look quite handsome.” She allowed a smile to grace her lips and stepped away to survey his figure. “Do you…want to see?” Edelgard asked, though not without some hesitation. 

Though she had not been expecting anything else, when the man shook his head, her expression still faltered some. He…did not like mirrors. Her fingers slowly curled into fists as she offered him a nod in return, resisting the urge to bite her lip. It had not been too long since the entire matter had been laid to rest; since Arundel and his lackeys had been sent to their graves, and since Dimitri himself had finally accepted her tentative offer.

Since that time, however, he could not tolerate mirrors, or looking at any sort of reflections of himself. Perhaps one day, he would come to terms with the man that he had become and release the burden of the atrocious actions his past self had committed, but that day was not likely in the near future. It was no easier for her to reconcile her own past, and it had hardly been as bloody nor as turbulent as his. 

She knew that he did not see himself in the mirror. He still saw a broken, rotting husk. There was little she could do in that regard; it was an issue rooted deeply in his heart, and it was one that he himself would need to unearth. 

He was a troubled, troubled man—and certainly would be for years to come. 

The woman tutted quietly, forcing herself to smile as she stepped closer and attempted to fix his hair. “You messed it up.” She chided teasingly, hoping that she would garner at least something akin to a smile from the grim man. No such fortune. Edelgard gnawed on the inside of her lip; his anxiety was nearly infectious. “Are you truly so concerned?”

The man wet his lips and looked away in what seemed an almost guilty manner. “What if they…see me?” Dimitri murmured, nearly inaudibly, and though his statement might have been considered odd to others—she comprehend its meaning at once.

She could not deny that it was heart-breaking; his lack of confidence, his fear, and the ever-present guilt that weighed and devoured what was left of his heart. Her eyes strayed sideward and settled briefly upon a little orange bottle sitting atop an end-table. “They will see you.” Edelgard replied firmly, her gaze flicking back to the doleful man before her. “They will see you, Dimitri.” She knew exactly what it was that he so feared, knew exactly what it was that was running through his mind and setting him to such unease.

If he could not see himself as a man, then how could anyone else? His perception of himself, and of how others viewed him were exceptionally warped. She sometimes wished that she could offer him her eyes, so that he might look at himself as she did, as though that would aid his realization and fix his tumultuous mind. Alas, both were impossibilities.

“Do you remember,” The woman began slowly, swallowing thickly as she recalled a particular day so, so many years before. “When we had to perform a presentation together?” The corners of her mouth were tugged into a faint smile as she reminisced. It had been not long after her illness, and she had not been completely recovered at that point. “I had needed to cough so badly, and speaking was simply exacerbating the need.” Tears had begun to sting at her eyes at the incessant, painful scratching in her throat, growing only worse with every word, but of course—she could not have permitted herself to reveal such an indignity before the rest of their peers.

She chuckled quietly, shaking her head, but a smile remained fixed on her lips. It was so trivial, hardly a significant detail to remember so vividly, but the memory remained vibrant in her skull. “You noticed—I still do not understand how, and smoothly took over for me.” As though they had been completely in sync, he had interceded between a point she had made and fluidly continued the presentation, giving her poor throat a much needed respite.

“You always noticed the most insignificant things about me.” Edelgard continued, laughing somewhat incredulously as she pondered the thought. “And you always—always offered me a hand. You let me lean on you, Dimitri.” The woman took a breath and raised her eyes to meet his dulled blue gaze. “So lean on me. It is my turn to offer you that support.”

A lame, weary smile finally quirked the corners of his lips. “It is just a speech.” He repeated her prior words, feebly attempting a moment of lightheartedness as recompense for his bleak demeanor. “Thank you, El.” The man added softly, and the smile fled his countenance once again. 

Someone coughed quietly, perhaps hesitant to intrude upon their privacy, and her gaze slid towards the source of the sound. A hazel-haired woman stood beside the door, glancing between them with a measure of caution. “Sorry to interrupt, Edie.” Dorothea offered a sheepish smile and gingerly tapped at her wrist to indicate that they were short on time. “Do you want to see Anna before you go?”

Well of course she did—but her daughter was securely slumbering in her crib, and she was loath to disturb the girl’s rest. There was certainly the possibility that the fussy child would wake at the first hint of noise, as quiet as that noise could be, and getting her back to sleep was a struggle unlike any other. Edelgard weighed the choices in her mind wordlessly, then glanced at the man beside her. She had discovered that even more than herself, Annaliese served as a balm to soothe his unrest.

At simply the sight of her, Dimitri seemed to relax, and his visage always lost its tension. In this case, she supposed it could not hurt. “Yes.” Edelgard replied calmly, reaching out to take the man’s hand. They would simply be extra careful in assuring that no extraneous sounds were made in the child’s nursery. 

Gently, she tugged her lover to her side, feeling slightly as though she was leading a reluctant, oversized dog by a leash. As much as he wanted to see her, Dimitri was incredibly hesitant in ever doing so. She had seen him standing outside the nursery door, his hand hovering just above the handle, his face wrought with an internal struggle—as though he did not deem himself worthy, or clean enough to lay his eyes on his daughter. 

Yet whenever she pushed the girl, somewhat forcibly, into his arms—his eye would grow bright and lively, swallowing the dull and lifeless gaze, and he treated her with the utmost care. In truth, watching them never failed to squeeze her own heart, because it was so painfully apparent that he loved her dearly. 

The woman led him, as silently as was feasible in her heels, towards the room in which their daughter was nestled and comfortably slumbering away. It was needless to warn him, or the woman trailing after them, to keep their voices lowered. It had become a quickly established rule in their household, and surprisingly, Hubert was the one that enforced it most diligently. She furtively believed that it was simply because the man did not enjoy the sound of her daughter’s wails, not that he would ever willingly admit to it. 

Slowly, achingly slowly, she pulled the door open, peeking her head into the noiseless room. She remained still for a few moments, then lifted her head and looked at the man standing just behind her. Cautiously, she widened the gap and stepped inside, duly tugging him along. Fortunately, the plush carpet muffled the sound of their shoes and they were soundless as they crept towards the crib. 

Wordlessly, the besotted couple peered over the walls of the crib, and Edelgard instinctively loosed a sigh, the motherly urge to see her child secure fulfilled. A little girl slept, bundled in soft, blankets of light hues. A tuft of bright gold hair stuck out and she resisted the urge to reach in and smooth it over, knowing well that the simple action could startle the child to waking. The woman once again raised her eyes to scan her partner’s expression, barely able to bite back a smile at the wholehearted adoration that had softened his visage and lightened his eye. Gingerly, she reached for him and rubbed his back, assuring him voicelessly. 

The new mother permitted a soft sight of contentment as she turned her attention towards the sleeping infant again. Oh, she could already imagine just how beautiful her little girl would grow to be. Admittedly…well, she could not wait to begin dressing her in the finest clothing and adorning her in beautiful things, fit for a princess. Because she was—Annaliese was their little princess. Furthermore, Edelgard was absolutely certain that Dimitri would treat her as such regardless; he was already fiercely protective of the fragile, little thing. 

Something tugged lightly on her sleeve and drew her from her warm reveries. The young woman reluctantly turned her attention from the small figure and sideward, where her loyal friend was once more alerting them to the time. A small surge of irritation twisted her heart, and momentarily, she was rather annoyed that she had chosen to do this. Presently, it seemed far more appealing to simply remain here and gaze at her heart’s source of warmth. 

Alas, she was in no position to spurn engagements that she had already committed to. It was a rather significant ordeal, in addition, and regardless of her sentiments, it was something that they needed to do. 

Rather glumly, she spared her daughter one final glance and gently pulled her lover away, knowing well that he too would have gladly chosen the same as she. And it was with reluctance that he stepped away, the mirth that had filled his countenance slowly draining away as the distance between them and their child grew larger. 

She felt him grow tense as they returned to the corridor, as though all the weight that had been burdening him afore suddenly dropped on his shoulders again. Well, understandably. This was going to be his first public appearance since his official return to…normal society. 

He had briefly taken over as the head of his family’s company—but it became quickly apparent that he was in no condition to do so. He would have excelled once—he had been an exceptional candidate for that position, but after everything that had happened, it was no surprise that he had broken down quickly. 

It was only after he had tearfully stumbled into her room in the dunnest hours of night that he wept, nestled in her arms, that he confessed he could not do it. It was then also that Edelgard truly began to realize the extent of the damage done to his state of mind. He was broken, broken, broken. 

She could not fix him, but she could help him heal. 

“It will be over soon.” Edelgard skimmed her palm down his cheek, gently thumbing at his jaw. “Dimitri, it will be alright.” 

His throat bobbed as he swallowed, but the man managed to offer a terse nod in response. A long breath streamed from his lips as he gathered his composure, to an impressive extent. Though the smile he offered was still hollow, it looked like a smile—far better than the half-grimaces he could barely muster before. “Of course.” 

“Okay you two, it’s time to go. Late entrances are fashionable, but not when they’re too late.” Dorothea quipped in an effort to lighten the mood, clapping her hands together as she eyed the both of them. “Geez, you guys are really unfairly beautiful. Anna’s going to be stunning.” 

Edelgard offered her friend a feeble smile, swallowing her own growing nervousness. If only she could take her own words to heart. Her hand sought his instinctively, just as it had all those years ago, and just as back then, their fingers twined together seamlessly. 

It was not at all surprising to find reporters, cameras, and merely curious spectators waiting inside the building like hawks making ready to swoop in for the kill. Not surprising, but neither was it any more palatable. In truth, she very much did not enjoy press conferences. Not in the slightest. It was not even for her own nervousness; she had never had much of an issue with speaking publically, nor before large audiences. 

It was merely a vexing experience, and more so now, simply because she was worried for her companion. Dimitri had gone rigid the moment they had stepped into the conference hall, and the faux smiles he had prepared had dissipated. A few nervous looks their way only confirmed what she had assumed; his present expression then was probably quite terrifying. 

Well, maybe that was for the better. If they were frightened by him, perhaps they would ask fewer questions. On the other hand, if he received such fearful glances…

She shut her eyes briefly, inhaling a sharp breath as she focused her attention on the podium they were approaching. Unwittingly, she squeezed his arm—whether to comfort him or herself, she did not know. Despite the sudden bout of anxiousness, as accustomed as she was to wearing masks, donning an impassive expression was not difficult for her to do. He would be fine, she reassured herself repeatedly, flicking her gaze to the side. 

A few familiar faces peered back at her—a man wearing a rather smug smirk, a pink-haired woman beside him. She had not known that they had been planning on attending, though she supposed she should not have been surprised in the slightest. Edelgard could only hope that Claude had not come to stir up any sort of dissension, or to provoke either of them into doing or saying something foolish.

Another breath swept her lips as she carefully climbed the steps, disregarding the sound of camera shutters and the flashing lights. It was not a new sight for her, having cameras pointed her way, having numerous eager reporters itching to hear her words and twist them for their stories. That was what it meant to have an empire. 

She dared to glance upward, unable to keep a frown from tugging down her lips as she noted just how dark his expression had become. The woman carefully unfurled her arm from his, stepping away slightly, and smoothed her hands down her slim, crimson gown. Edelgard raised her chin and studied their audience with disinterest, masking her unease behind a façade of ambivalence. 

As Dimitri trudged heavily towards the podium, the chattering died away, fading—and like a fog had settled over the room, it grew silent. Seconds ticked by, and every eye in the room seemed to have fixed upon his figure. She could only imagine how he felt at that moment, how ardently he was struggling with himself, and it took all the discipline she could muster to keep from touching him. 

She tried not to bit her lips, tried to keep her hands relaxed at her sides as she glanced at him, noting with a muffled sense of amusement, that whomever had prepared the mic had not accounted for his size. 

He did not bother to adjust it, but neither did he lean down to accommodate for the disparity. 

After a few tense moments dragged along by, the blond finally stirred, clearing his throat. “Thank you all for coming today.” His voice was low, almost gruff, but to his credit, it did not waver and neither did his apparent unease carry through his tone. Still, she watched his back tensely, as though all of his trepidation had somehow carried over to her instead. “I imagine there has been much deliberation and interest in regards to my reappearance. For the duration of the past six years, I had been formally declared a dead man following a grievous, and unfortunate accident that had, in fact, nearly taken my life.”

In truth, Edelgard herself did not know much of what had happened then, and she did not know what exactly it was that Dimitri was going to say. They had not really discussed much of his history, because there had been no need to delve into its nastiness, not after having finally extricated themselves from the nefarious claws of her uncle’s schemes. She listened with as an ardent interest as the rest of their audience.

“However, the day has come in which I am able to bring to light the unsavory affairs that had stripped me of my position and corrupted what had been an honorable business formerly run by my family’s namesake. The accident had been staged in an effort to take my life, and the perpetrator was the very woman that had inherited the Blaiddyd Arms Corporation following the announcement of my demise.” 

The astonishment was plain to as journalists and curious spectators turned to one another and murmured their bewilderment, sharing awed glances amongst themselves as they peered up at the imposing figure above them. 

Dimitri took another breath, but it was quiet enough to have escaped their notice—only she had heard it. Undoubtedly, this was not something that pleased him to disclose. “As many of you should know, we were strongly affiliated with the Faerghus Military, and that is precisely why it was worrisome that an ill-intentioned serpent had slithered her way into the center of command. I was labelled a dead man, but that had not meant that I was safe. As long as I lived, I would be a target to those that had usurped my status and control of the company.

“I became a fugitive in my own country. I had no choice but to live in hiding, operating beneath the sight of the watchful eyes of those that sought to snuff out my life. But Cornelia Arnim was only one facet of the widespread, underground terrorist organization, and I soon found that escaping my home country was not enough. They had sunk their claws into other significant and influential businesses around the continent, had integrated themselves into the politics of those countries. 

“Among them, Arundel—a familiar name to most. A prominent political figure who resided in Enbarr. He was their commander, and he had been pulling the strings—manipulating even his niece, making use of her status and company to conduct his business.”

She ignored the multiple gazes that suddenly flicked her way upon his saying those words, her gaze remaining pointedly focused on the man not distant from her. He had made it sound as though she had been ignorant. Something within her churned unpleasantly, but she swallowed it down and forced her expression to remain unmoved. 

“I will not bore you with a long and tedious tale of how my years were spent.” There were a few chuckles interspersed through the room, and she almost wanted to join them—because that statement was so blithely astonishing. To her, it was, and probably to Claude—to whom her gaze had briefly flicked, because they knew intimately that it would have been anything but a dull account. “A number of fine individuals came together, exposed, and deposed those that had been associated with the organization.”

Yes, a fine way of putting it. Deposed. She tried not to remember just how violently Dimitri himself had deposed that woman. 

“Now that the web has been untangled, I am finally free to make my appearance before all of you, unfettered by constant anticipation and anxiety.”

Edelgard bit her lip. How beautifully he could spin his lies. But he had to. 

“I must address the issue that undoubtedly is of the most interest to all of you gathered today.” The man said, and indeed, his words sparked a flutter of excitement. It would soon be quelled. “I have decided to give up my succession of what had formerly been the Blaiddyd Arms Corporation. I will not be replacing Cornelia Arnim as the head of the business.”

It was as they had both been expecting. A sudden raucous burst of noise swelled through the room—unintelligible, and indiscernible. Whether they were pleased or angry, she could not tell, and did not care. She stood a little straighter, pressing her lips together. There was yet more to come.

He waited, silent and unmoving, for the noise to die down again, and it did. Perhaps it was simply because he had a commanding presence—one that could not simply be guised or forgotten. It was natural and instinctive, she presumed. “I have given my full agreement to handing over the entirety of my authority to Edelgard Von Hresvelg, Chief Executive of the Hresvelg Enterprise. Within a few weeks, the process to merge the two companies will be concluded. That is all.”

He stepped away from the mic, and she could tell at once that the experience had drained him. His expression was grim, bleak, and his posture had sagged slightly. It did not help that the questions had begun to flood in immediately—outrage and enthusiasm both. 

Lifting her chin and mustering an expression of assurance, the woman stepped nearer and took his place, the tension fading from her body now that his piece had been said. Soon it would be over. “Good afternoon,” She greeted smoothly, slipping seamlessly into the frigid persona that she had crafted for the public eye. “I will be speaking on Mr. Blaiddyd’s behalf from hereon. You may direct your inquiries towards myself.”

“Ms. Hresvelg—a merge of this size is a tremendous burden. Are you assured in your ability to manage a corporation of its stature? And what of the former corruption—have you plans to deal with the aftermath?”

Someone called out, a question that she had been expecting. “I am confident in my ability to continue managing both my company and the former Blaiddyd Corporation. The process has been elongated precisely because we are dealing with the lingering effects of my uncle’s influence.” 

“Whose idea was this? Did Mr. Blaiddyd truly agree to give up his company?”

“What is the nature of your relationship with Mr. Blaiddyd?”

“May we know the reason behind Mr. Blaiddyd’s decision?”

Three more queries that she had been anticipating. She flicked her gaze briefly to her side, taking a moment to discern her companion’s visage. He did not outwardly seem perturbed by the questions. “This was a matter that we had discussed quite seriously, and the idea cannot be solely attributed to either one of us.” Edelgard still clearly remembered that conversation, and just how agonizing it had been for him to make the choice. “I will consult with him on any significant matter to make sure no bounds are overstepped. As for the nature of our relations…he is a man I deeply respect, and as such, I will not disclose the particulars of why we have come to this arrangement. I would humbly ask that you refrain from inquiring.”

“Ms. Hresvelg—there are rumors of romantic involvement between yourself and Mr. Blaiddyd. Do you have anything to say in regards to this statement?”

She sighed, having been hoping that the matter would not have been brought up. It was not that she was ashamed to admit to it, of course not. But that…was a whole slew of new complications. They had not even figured that out themselves yet. 

Edelgard furtively mulled at the inside of her lip, wondering how best to respond. Thus far, there had been many half-truths tumbling from their tongues. What was one more? “He and I were romantically involved six years ago, while we had still been attending Garreg Mach University. We parted ways prior to graduation, but we remain amicable.” Well, that was not much of a secret at all—they had not been hiding their relationship back then. Now…it was an entirely different matter, and it was most certainly far too soon to divulge the details of what remained a rather confusing situation even to her. 

It was to her fortune then that the following questions veered away from the details surrounding their relations. They were far simpler to answer.

She lay in bed, her gaze fixated distractedly at the crimson canopy overhead. Somehow, that entire ordeal had drained her of nearly all of her strength. Edelgard did not particularly want to do anything. Though a warm bath and a glass of chilled wine certainly sounded appealing, she did not even want to bother with preparing either of those things, nor inviting anyone into her room to do so for her. 

Similarly, Dimitri had probably done the same thing. When they had returned home, he had gone straight to his borrowed room and shut the door behind him, and she had thought better of following him. He needed time to himself. 

Her lips grimly curled into a humorless smile as she recalled the queries posed to her. The nature of their relationship… Well, just as the thought had crossed her mind earlier, it did so again. She did not know. It had been clear cut back then—they had been attracted to each other, they had liked each other. But, back then, they had not been embroiled in nefarious schemes, and he had still been able to smile. 

Edelgard knew her own heart. She knew very well that she still loved him. But that did not give her the right to encroach upon his confusion and muddle his tumultuous feelings even further. She could not expect that simply because they had settled everything with Arundel and his supporters that the pieces of their own puzzle would just fall back into place.

They had been opposing forces at one point, and he had admitted as much to her. Though he had agreed to aid her in that endeavor, it was almost a certainty that he had done so purely because he had discovered their daughter. Right. He had been on the verge of slipping off the edge of the knife then—he had hardened his heart to her, and he would have charged into Arundel’s headquarters on his own, heedless of his own safety.

No—he probably would have hoped to die. He assuredly would have done so with the barely guised desire of losing his life in the process. She still remembered just how lifeless his eye had been that day, how utterly weary he was.

The feeble, bleak smile she had mustered slipped off her lips and she quietly turned her body to the side, staring blankly at the empty space beside her. Gingerly, she reached out, splaying her hand across the soft duvet as though she was expecting to find a warm, solid figure. 

He had become rather reticent of late, not that she could very well blame him. There was a palpable distance between them, but this time, it was not of her making. The woman knew, iterated to herself the sentiment that he needed time. He needed time, and she told herself again and again that she was willing to give it to him. She was. 

And yet there were times that she simply wanted to nestle herself against his body and feel the warmth of his arms embrace her. 

He was trying. He was trying to overcome the hurts and griefs that plagued him, that had coiled like a noose around his neck. He was trying to remember that it was over; that he was safe, that his retribution had been delivered. 

But she missed him. She missed him more than she could bring to word, more than she could readily admit to him. He lived with her, he lived just a few rooms away, and yet she had never felt farther away. 

The woman let out a long sigh and withdrew her hand, resting an arm under her head. Lamely, she lifted the other to tug her hair free of its bindings, loosening the silky silver strands. She could only imagine what her younger self would say if she had seen her presently. So utterly lost and tangled in a web of pesky, unreliable sentiments. This was never something she had ever expected would occur to her. 

Her younger self had been imperious, driven by reason, and guarded. Oh so very guarded. 

_This is what you get, El. _

Something akin to a dry, bitter laugh tore from between her lips. For opening her heart, this was her due. Sometimes she believed that she was simply not destined for happiness. 

_Watch him suffer. You can do nothing to help him._

She bit her lip, inadvertently piercing the skin with the strength that she had done so. The taste of iron touched her tongue. 

She had asked him once. Did I do this to you, she had asked. Despite his answer, the woman could not help but wonder what would have happened had she not broken the bonds that had tethered them. That day, what if she had swallowed those ugly, ugly words, and instead extended her hand to him. What if she had smiled at him instead. 

Maybe this was Sothis’ way of punishing her for that irrevocable cruelty. 

_I broke him._

Or was it selfish to think that way? Did she regard herself too highly? Would he have turned out this way regardless of her decision that day? 

The dull thudding of a knock sounded at her door and she all but leapt from her skin, her heart stumbling painfully at the abrupt and unexpected disruption to the silence, and her own dreary thoughts. 

A shuddering breath wove its way past her lips and she sat up, closing her eyes as she forcibly regained her composure. The woman pushed her fingers through her unbound hair and cleared her throat. “Come in.” Good; she did not sound, outwardly, troubled. Her fingers trembled slightly as she smoothed down her tailored dress shirt.

The door creaked faintly as it was pushed inward, and she could not help but raise her brows in vague astonishment as a familiar, monstrously tall figure lumbered into her room. She had not…well, she had not been expecting him. He had already divested himself of his jacket and tie, and his black dress shirt was unbuttoned and hanging limply from his frame. 

For a moment, neither said a word, both suddenly remarkably discomfited. There was a slightly awkward air that seemed to descend like some sort of palpable fog. She stared at him, unsure as to whether she should get up, or initiate whatever conversation he meant to have—or whether to remain silent and permit him to speak first.

To her fortune, he decided in her stead.

The man lamely lifted an arm and rubbed the back of his neck, his single eye shifting across the room. “Can I…?” His gaze settled on the bed, lingering on the space beside her, the rest of his request left unspoken.

Her mind seemed to go blank momentarily, and utterly uncharacteristically, Edelgard felt warmth creep up her neck as she sputtered a response. “What—oh, yes. Of course.” Inwardly, she cursed herself for having lost her composure so easily. It was as though they had begun entirely anew, like this was once again her first encounter with anything even remotely intimate. No—she had been more assured the first time they had had sex. 

She quietly cleared her throat, gnawing her lip by habit as the man trudged over and rounded the bed. She had been fine earlier—but she supposed that it was for the cause of having had other thoughts to distract her from the inevitable. Just then, however, she had been pondering the nature of their relationship, so of course, she reasoned, it was natural for her to have grown slightly flustered. Additionally, she had not expected the man himself to intrude whilst she had been considering such things.

Edelgard tried to calm her sudden bout of frazzled nerves, gingerly drawing an indistinguishable pattern atop the duvet with a finger. The bed dipped heavily to the side and her heart seemed to stutter once again. For as much as she prided herself on her ability to remain unmoved and stoic, it was comical just how little control she had over herself in this moment. 

“…El?”

His voice was low, underlined by a foreign hesitance, one that seemed to mirror her own tentativeness. It was as though they were a pair of skittish felines cautiously circling each other. It was frustrating, undeniably, but she knew well that rushing anything in the context of their situation would be both unwise and unkind. 

Realizing she had not responded, she turned her head to the side, eyeing the man that looked uncomfortably tense—as though he believed she would tell him to leave at any moment. “Yes, Dimitri?” She forced the unease from her figure, taking a breath as she relaxed. She was being silly and thinking of unreasonable things. “What is it?” The woman carefully extended a hand and brushed aside a lock of golden hair, tilting her head as she met his tentative gaze. 

He said nothing, his eye darting sideward, and she noted how his throat bobbed. A faint, melancholy smile twitched at the corners of his lips and she deliberately laid back down again. “Come here.” Edelgard opened her arms, beckoning him to join her. 

Relief seemed to color his dull eye briefly, and the man slowly moved towards her, lowering himself until his head rested against her bosom. A brief moment of stillness, then his arms wove around her waist. Careful—he was being so careful. 

She sighed softly and allowed her head to fall back against the plush pillow, lifting a hand to thread her fingers through his hair. “Did you take your medication?” The woman asked quietly, recalling how unusually full one of his numerous small bottles had seemed, a faint frown tugging at her lips. One had nearly been empty—and she wagered a guess that it was the one that allowed him to sleep. 

A quiet hum was the only response she was given. 

“Dimitri…” She sighed, not particularly wanting to lecture him on the subject—he did not need her input on the matter, but she did not want to permit him to be lax about such things either. 

“I take those that I need.” His voice was slightly muffled as he burrowed his head against her chest, and she felt the warmth of his breath puff against her collar. 

Despite her initial desire to argue, she did not press the subject. It was not as though she understood all there was, and the topic itself was both complicated and sensitive. She tenderly carded her fingers through his hair, sighing once more. “So…are you alright? After today?”

Another stretch of silence, though not at strained as it had been before. It had grown more comfortable, more familiar. A dry chuckle broke it. “Am I ever alright, El?” His voice was mournful and filled with a helplessness that tore at her heart. “I cannot tell anymore.”

She hummed softly, her eyes flicking down to examine him. “You are. With Anna.” The woman murmured, permitting her gaze to drift across his long and sturdy figure, partially draped across her own. His weight, despite what one would expect, was not unbearable. It was rather a familiar comfort. 

Edelgard turned her head and peered at the half-draped window, her eyes falling closed after a short time. It was impossible to deny that she had missed this, missed being so close to him. “Dimitri…” His name left her tongue in a languid whisper, and before she could think twice about the words that followed, they slid from her mouth. “Do you want another one?”

And then it hit her, what she had just asked. Something neither she, nor he, had ever discussed, nor even thought of. Unwittingly, she stiffened slightly, swallowing thickly as her mind began to churn with mortification and dread both. It was utterly careless of her to mention such a thing when they were barely past the point of comfortably embracing again. 

Since he had come to live with her, she had not dared rekindle a physical relationship with him, regardless of her own desire to do so. She had not wanted to distress him, or pressure him, especially because those first few weeks were the worst. Sex had been the last thing on his mind and she understood completely. And even then—their first child was barely a year old, and he could barely find it within himself to be perceived as worthy of touching her. That was not even taking into account the difficulties she had experienced throughout her first pregnancy—so why on earth would her addled mind even have brought the subject to word? 

The woman bit her tongue and heaved a shuddering breath. Because…for an instant—an image had drifted across her skull. A beautiful image of him, smiling and unburdened, a father to his little beautiful girl and to…to a boy. A boy with hair like caramel and eyes like lavender. 

“I—I am sorry.” She managed to stammer, stilling her fingers, tangled in the locks of his tousled hair. “That is not something you should—,” 

“Yes.”

It had almost been inaudible, that one small and insignificant word. And yet it all but stopped her heart. She wet her lips, and her eyes fluttered open, staring dazedly at the crimson cloth above them, wondering if she had heard him correctly. Edelgard almost leapt from the bed as unexpectedly, his large hand slid beneath the cut of her untucked shirt and settled heavily on her belly, feeling uncharacteristically jittery. Gently, his finger tapped at her skin.

“I…did not get to see it.” The man murmured, shifting slightly over her small frame, instead resting his head against her shoulder, and he smoothed his calloused palm over her navel. “I missed so much, El.” His voice was thick with emotion, and he swallowed. 

Her lips quivered, and so did the breath that swept through her lungs. Her eyes seemed to sting, and she hurriedly blinked, straining to remain composed. It would be no help if they both turned into sobbing messes. That was what she told herself, but it was difficult, oh so incredibly difficult not to absorb his pain as though it was her own. “Dimitri,” Her voice sounded meek, feeble, just on the brink of collapse. “I want you to be happy.”

Her restraints crumbled and hot, blisteringly hot tears began to slip down her cheeks. The young woman sniffled, fighting against the oncoming storm as best she could, realizing somewhere in the back of her skull that she had inadvertently gripped a tight handful of his hair, and she forced her fingers to unfurl. 

She was afraid to speak. 

The weight left her as the man pushed himself up, his movement lethargic and cautious. He leaned over her, his eye searching her countenance, drinking in every detail of her straining expression. A feather light touch slid along her jaw, gentle, exploratory. His thumb swept under her eye, brushing aside a tear that had clung to her lashes. 

“Would it be…alright for me to tell you?” That he felt the need to ask her permission—she could not help the sob that wracked her chest. Wordlessly, she nodded, blinking away the stinging drops of warmth. “I…El, I—I love you.” The word he had not permitted himself to so much as think tumbled gracelessly from his lips, clumsy, but utterly earnest. “Is that alright?”

“You—,” A sound somewhere between a laugh and a gut-wrenching sob tore itself from between her teeth and the woman hurriedly pressed a hand to her face. She was weeping in earnest now, tears trickling down her face, quiet sobs shuddering against her ribs. “Y-yes.” She wailed, the last of her restraints splintering. Her hand remained plastered to her face, feebly guising the blatant evidence from his searching gaze. Relief, elation surged through her body, and she hardly knew what to do with such overwhelming feelings.

Ugly, gasping sobs tumbled one after another from her lips. She could barely form the words she so desperately wanted to repeat. She had to tell him. She had to tell him. She had to tell him. She loved him too. 

But even before she could, his lips swept across her cheek. Soft. Light. As though she was made of frail glass. And again—the faintest pressure. He caressed her face and tangled his fingers in her hair. His breath shivered against her skin. “El…” Quiet, so utterly quiet. So timid—his strong voice had grown so feeble. “Do you want—,” 

Why did he sound so frightened? Why did he sound so unsure? 

She could barely breathe. Her eyes opened, bleary and unseeing—until they focused on his face. He looked terrified, but why? Why, why, why? The woman pushed out another quivering breath and leaned closer, closer, until her nose brushed against his. Carefully, as though he would spook at the slightest sudden motion, Edelgard touched her lips to his. Tentative and timid. His fingers curled between the strands of her hair and his breath warmed her face. 

“Do you want to get married?”

Dimitri had never sounded so scared. And she realized why he looked so frightened. He did not think that she would—he thought she would reject him. He believed that, and yet, he had still asked. She stared at him, unblinking, unmoving, the word dancing through her head. She felt as though she had been submerged; the world felt muffled. 

She…would never be able to stop crying. Edelgard laughed pitifully, a quiet hiccough breaking through the sound. “I think,” She gulped a breath, giving her best effort at speaking coherently, ignoring the bubbling glee that had begun to swell in her heart. “I would like that.” 

Very much. It was more than she deserved. More than she would have dared to dream of. Happiness had once seemed a foreign word, but…in that moment, she supposed that there was no better fitting description. It tingled through every inch of her body, warming her to her very core. 

“I love you.” The words came unbidden. They had never been easier to say. And she had never been happier to say them. Their story had never been an easy one. She had never permitted herself to imagine that she would understand what it meant to enjoy a happy ending. Neither had he. 

And yet there they were. After everything, there they were, gazing into each other’s eyes like foolish, infatuated children. The world, well, it simply felt as though it had melted away. 

“We will be happy.” Edelgard whispered, leaning into his touch as he skimmed his hand down her face. “We will be.” It was a promise. And they deserved it. They deserved that joy that had eluded and evaded them for so very long. “Do you trust me, Dimitri? Will you be happy?”

Slowly, like a beautiful flower unfurling its precious petals, his lips curled into a smile. A real smile—not hollow, not lifeless, nor a striking facsimile. And when he leaned in to press his lips to her mouth, she could feel it. She could feel his smile, could feel the life waking up inside him. He kissed her, and in that instant, all else was forgotten.

“El,” He murmured against her mouth, his voice rumbling low in her ear. He tucked a lock of hair behind her ear and leaned away. And he looked at her face. He had never looked so utterly beautiful, so utterly vivid, like color had seeped back into his form. She could see their future in his gaze. 

Her lips curled upwards. 

“I am happy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I couldn't just leave it be. 
> 
> Honestly, I started this chapter out with the intention of writing something entirely different, but you plan one thing and do something else completely. I hope you guys enjoyed the read; this was admittedly a tough chapter to write, but I really wanted to do it, and it was fun writing even so
> 
> Now, I need to get back on working on Cursed...and I've got a few one-shot ideas that I might give a go. Fare thee well until my next update, wherever that may be!

**Author's Note:**

> So, how was that? I know it might have been pretty boring, but hey, sometimes you need a bit of plain old monotony in life--especially these two. God knows they need it. I suppose I'm considering this an introduction to this AU. As time, and my own creativity allows, I'll continue to add to this world, and eventually, hopefully, develop some romance between these two. 
> 
> I'm a Uni student myself presently, and writing original works that take up most of my time, so I probably won't post frequently. If anyone has any suggestions, feel free to hit me up! Scenes you want to see, interactions you'd think probable? Let me know.
> 
> I'd love to hear your thoughts, whether this project is even worth going forward with!


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